


The Road Not Taken

by ManicRavingsofaLunatic



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Arranged Marriage AU, Bad language warning too, Follows the Show, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Multi, Not by choice, Parabatai Feels, Set in the TV universe, So Alec isn't closeted, Trigger warning for homophobic language, but he is married, but not really, maryse is a bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManicRavingsofaLunatic/pseuds/ManicRavingsofaLunatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years before Clary Fray messed everything up - everything was already messed up. How much worse could it get?</p>
<p>Stupid question.</p>
<p>Valentine's back and looking for the Cup. Clary Fray is on a one-woman mission to drag the Lightwoods neck deep into war, undermining the Heads of the New York Institute at every turn. And one quite magical Warlock is being very distracting. </p>
<p>Alec's not sure that he's gonna survive this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so first work in this fandom - nice to meet you all! I don't usually write AU's, but I've spent way too much of my free time reading the ones on offer here and I had to take a crack at it.
> 
> To be honest, I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this - there's nothing planned or written beyond this first chapter, but if people are interested I'm quite excited to see where this story might go!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Seven Years Ago...**

Everything was beige.

Honestly, Alec had never seen so much of the drab, muddy white colour in his life – and this was coming from the guy whose wardrobe consisted of varying shades of _black._ The walls, the carpet, the goddamn faux-suede office chairs... _all_ of it. Whoever this office belonged to needed a serious conversation with an interior decorator and--

_Since when did he care about interior design?_ Alec huffed a deep sigh and let his head thud back against said faux-suede office chair. So maybe he was fixating a little on the beige-ness to distract himself from the clusterfuck that was rapidly becoming his life, but who could blame him? The colour pretty much perfectly reflected just exactly how he was feeling right then. He shifted uncomfortably in his suit and stared up at the ceiling, praying to any deity available to smite him down immediately. 

He was getting married.

To a  _girl._

That shouldn't be an issue. If he were  _normal_ like his parents wanted, the whole female aspect of his fiancé would be utterly irrelevant. He would be able to properly focus on the rather glaring fact that he was barely seventeen years old and already being married off to a girl that he had never met – his entire future boiled down to a political alliance so that his parents could save face in front of the Clave.

Because they were  _ashamed_ of him. Disgusted, even. Because he had committed the terrible crime of falling in love. With a  _boy._

Daniel Mendoza had been completing his training at the New York Institute for the past year under Hodge's tutelage, his parents staying behind in Idris. He and Alec had been paired up together due to their similar ages and skill sets (both being archers) and one thing had led to another. Their first kiss had been in the training room after a sparring session that had gotten a little... heated...

And  _jeez,_ Alec was still blushing about that now.

They hadn't really hidden their relationship. Alec wasn't over comfortable with public displays of affection and Daniel had always respected that; but even without an announcement of their homosexuality, everyone at the Institute pretty much knew what was going on. Izzy and Jace knew and accepted it without any drama, and that was all that really mattered. Their  _parents_ didn't know though; or at least, were not around enough to see what was fairly obvious, and that was where it had all gone wrong.

Alec should have known that he was doomed the moment that his mother had called him into her office.

He had walked in, expecting a lecture on the mission reports that were piling up on his desk, but instead was greeted by a sight that he would never forget. Maryse sat at the head of the desk, Robert at her shoulder like a loyal dog and Daniel sitting opposite her with hunched shoulders. His parents hovered to one side nervously; the whole room a powder keg of tension waiting to spark.

“Alexander,” his mother started, grinding the extra syllables of his name between her teeth like she had taken a bite that was particularly hard to swallow. “We did not raise you to be this way.”

A sarcastic retort waited on the tip of his tongue, but experience told Alec that those never ended well for anyone. Instead he settled in the chair next to Daniel, passing his boyfriend a look that was supposed to be both questioning and reassuring, before resting hazel eyes on his mother's face. She was furious. The twitch of her left eye and severe frown was testament to that. Generally, the best way to handle a pissed off Maryse Lightwood was to accept that, no matter what, you were wrong while she was always right – accept your mistake and apologise.

It nearly always worked when Jace had fluffed a mission with his over enthusiasm and Maryse had seen fit to make it Alec's fault. Or when Izzy had decided that she liked looking good; her choice to trade standard gear for increasingly shorter skirts clearly her older brother's influence. Every time he would apologise, promise to be better (like he had any right to control his sibling's choices) and that was that.

He had never thought that he would have to apologise for being himself, though.

“I'm sorry.”

Daniel stiffened beside him. Alec glanced sideways at him, trying to read whether his boyfriend was upset that Alec was ashamed of him (which wasn't true) or angry at his mother for putting them in this position. But Daniel kept his eyes to the floor, head turned slightly away and posture so slumped that he was practically buried ear-deep in his hoodie. None of this was normal. Daniel was the bolder one in their relationship, never one to sit in silence if anyone dared speak ill of them

(the time that he had decked a werewolf that had felt the need to insinuate nasty things about their mingled scents was a particularly fond memory)

but now he said nothing.

“You must understand that this is unnatural,” Maryse continued, her tone softening a little but her opinions clearly not. Alec remained silent. He had been dreading this conversation since the first time that he had looked at a boy and thought _'oh no, he's hot'_ but in a way, it was almost cathartic for it to finally happen – to hear just exactly what it was his mother thought of him. “These, these _feelings_ that you have, are not right. They're not yours. What this boy has done to you--”

“ _What?!”_

“--is nothing short of criminal,” Maryse continued despite Alec's outburst. She reached across the desk, aiming for Alec's hand, but he withdrew it in disgust. “He has put thoughts in your head that do not belong there. It is our fault, in a way. We let you be naïve, open to this boy's suggestions. You believe that his advances mean that he loves you but he doesn't, Alexander. He is merely soiling your reputation with this... _filth_ – the Mendoza's have wanted this Institute for years and by degrading you in this way they can ensure that the Clave will never allow you to take over as Head.”

Alec's jaw had dropped as his mother had spun her tale, but he closed it then; grinding his teeth in a vain attempt to temper his anger. “You honestly expect me to believe that?”

Maryse sighed sympathetically, as if Alec were a toddler that couldn't understand why he was being told not to play in traffic. “I know that this must be difficult to hear--”

“No,” Alec cut her off, making his mother blink in surprise. “You know what's hard to hear? That my own mother can't accept who I am and feels the need to make up elaborate stories to justify why I love who I love. Maybe you should try listening for once and hear this: I'm _gay_ , Mom.”

“No, you're not,” Maryse denied vehemently, getting to her feet. “You are young and confused and can't see what this relationship would do to this family. A man cannot lie with another man! Do you think that the Clave would look favourably on an Institute run by a sinner? Do you think that they would allow your father to become Inquisitor with a queer for a son? You are a Shadowhunter!”

Alec was standing too, though he didn't remember doing so. “There are gay Shadowhunters, Mom!”

“But they don't run Institutes!”

“I don't give a shit about this goddamn Institute!” Alec snapped right back. “Let it all burn for all I care! I do as I'm told, I follow _all_ the rules! Why does it matter that I'm gay?” his voice broke a little, dropping in volume. “Why can't you just let me have this _one_ _thing?”_

A hand wrapped around Alec's wrist, and he glanced down to see Daniel looking up at him imploringly. Behind them, the Mendoza's froze, and Alec realised that they were staring at the contact between the two boys as if it were something to be feared; a forbidden taboo. And then Alec looked at his mother, whose perpetual frown had twisted into a smug smile. And it all became very clear to Alec, that it was already far too late. “What did you do?”

“An arrangement has been made,” Maryse replied. “It would be best for all parties involved if the Clave were to remain unaware of these discretions. The Mendoza's will be leaving for the Haiti Institute tonight where they are to remain unless ordered otherwise by the Clave. They will be taking their boy with them.”

“No...” Alec muttered, dropping back into his seat. Daniel's grip tightened a moment on his wrist, drawing Alec's gaze back to him. And the new rune that was burned raw on his neck.

Maryse caught his horrified gaze. “As punishment for his crimes, a Silence rune has been placed upon him so that he may never curse another with his silver tongue. It is for your protection, Alexander.”

Alec swallowed the down the bile in his throat. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“There is nothing wrong with me,” his mother had replied. “There is something wrong with _you_. But I have every faith that you can be fixed, my son. I will see to that.”

Alec hadn't seen Daniel since; nor would he dare to seek him out either. Their short eight months together had left Daniel mute and his family banished. Alec didn't want to find out what would happen if he went anywhere near the other boy again, no matter how much he wanted to apologise. It was all his fault. It was selfish of him to believe that he could ignore his duty for love. He was a Shadowhunter.

The Law is the Law and all that.

And now a month later he was sitting in a very beige office in black ceremonial gear adorned with gold runes, waiting to be married to the next person whose life he would ruin.

_Save them all the bother_ , he prayed again, _and just take me out of the equation._

A knock at the door drew him out of his thoughts, and he forced himself to sit up straight and fake a smile, expecting either Jace or Izzy to be on the other side. Neither of them understood why Alec was suddenly getting married. Well, no, they _understood_ that it was a political alliance to strengthen the Lightwood family name with the Clave, but they didn't _agree_ with it. They had already tried to talk him out of it.

(As if he had a choice.)

He was slightly surprised when the door opened to reveal a girl, probably about his age, dressed in a golden gown with her blonde hair twisted regally upon her head. She was beautiful, he couldn't deny that, even if it was a beauty that he wasn't attracted to, and clearly nervous. It took him a beat longer than it should have for him to realise that this was his bride to be. In an hour she would be his wife.

“Hi,” she said as she closed the door behind her, offering him an awkward wave. “I'm uh, Lydia. Lydia Branwell.”

Alec's fake smile twisted into something a little more genuine. “Alec Lightwood. Hi.”

Lydia took a deep breath, hesitating a moment by the door as if she were giving herself a mental pep talk, and then strode a few steps forward. Alec remained seated, knowing that his height versus hers would probably make her uncomfortable. “So,” she began. “I don't want to get married.”

“You've been given a choice?” Alec couldn't help but snort incredulously.

“Well, no, I haven't,” Lydia shrugged, a gesture that looked very strange while her posture was forced rigidly into the corseted gown. “Neither of us have, that's not what I mean. I _want_ to get married, obviously. It makes sense, logically, that we should. Two prominent Shadowhunter families uniting would ensure Lightwood control of the New York Institute, which is what I want. I want to head an Institute.”

Alec blinked, and Lydia, realising that she had lost him somewhere in that spiel, tried again. “I'm a workaholic. It's a problem, that I have, and I'm competitive too, which doesn't help. Wow, way to sell yourself, Lydia. Look, in this job, there's no point falling in love with anything other than the job. It's been my dream since I was a little girl to head an Institute – I know, a tad ambitious – but this marriage is the perfect opportunity. That's all this is for me; an opportunity.”

She paused, going over what she had just said in her head to try and determine whether or not she had greatly insulted him in some way. “What I mean, is that I don't want a _romantic_ marriage,” she finished. “I'm not looking for love. Don't get me wrong, you're very hot – like, a lot hotter than I thought you were going to be – but I'm not interested. At all.”

Alec studied Lydia for a moment, who had gone bright red in the face and looked as if she were waiting for him to blow up at her. He decided to put her out of her misery. “I'm gay.”

“Oh thank the Angel,” Lydia breathed, sinking into the faux-suede chair opposite him.

“That's not what my mother said when she found out,” Alec couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. “You should probably know the truth too. This whole marriage is a front to hide from the Clave the fact that I'm gay so that my family can keep the Institute. I'm not exactly closeted, but she didn't see it until it became too obvious that I had a boyfriend and that things were getting serious.”

Lydia winced in sympathy. “What happened to your boyfriend?”

“My mother exiled his whole family to Haiti,” Alec admitted, making Lydia's eyebrows hit her hairline. “Look, I just wanted you to know what you're getting into. My family... my _parents_ are... complicated. I know we don't really have a choice, and we don't even know each other, but I understand if you don't want to do this.”

“This is happening regardless,” Lydia said plainly. “Let's not think of it as a marriage. It's... it's a partnership. No expectations beyond the job. We've got our honeymoon to get to know each other and set some ground rules and...” she sighed, wincing as the gown restricted her movement. “I know that this isn't ideal, for either of us, but I think that we can make it work. We could be good for each other.”

Alec nodded, some of the fear that he had been carrying lifting from his shoulders. He could run the Institute with Lydia. He could pretend for the Clave and his parents that he was normal. He could do this.

“You should probably get going,” Lydia interrupted with a laugh. “You're supposed to be waiting at the altar for me by now.”

Alec glanced down at his watch before jumping to his feet. “Oh yeah, okay um, see you there?”

Lydia grinned. “Absolutely.”

* * *

 

**Present**

“I'll get approval for the mission.”

“Oh, come on Alec,” Jace dismissed with a cavalier shrug and an unnecessary twirl of his _seraph_ blade. Alec should have known right then and there that everything was about to go wrong. “By the time you've sent that message, we'll have killed six demons already.”

“Besides,” Izzy joined in, strutting along in one of her more daring outfits. “It's more fun to break the rules than to follow them.”

And _that_ was how they ended up in the middle of Pandemonium, no closer to solving the mundane murders than they had been before they'd gone out on an unsanctioned mission. The music from the club kept going strong, muffled slightly by the curtains surrounding the VIP area; the usual smells of alcohol and sweat blending with the rotten scent of the recently vanquished shape-shifters. Alec rolled his eyes as he scuffed his boot through demon ash.

“Well, that went swimmingly.”

Jace shot him a glare before dropping his attention back to the handle of his _seraph_ blade with an almost reverent wonder. “That mundane, she had the Sight and the blade responded to her, but she didn't have any runes.”

“That you _saw,”_ Izzy added. She had picked up her trench coat from where it had been ditched on the floor, the platinum wig forgotten as she scoured the place for any evidence left behind. “She was dressed pretty conservatively for a nightclub.”

Alec was pretty sure that the red-head's top had been _see-through_ , but decided not to comment. “Whatever. Whether she was a Shadowhunter or a Mundie doesn't really matter. Either way, she just cost us our only lead in this case. Lets get back to the Institute before I actually have to come up with a plausible explanation and report this.”

“Relax, Alec,” Izzy said, grabbing his arm and leaning against him slightly. “Lydia is away in Idris, who have you got to report to, yourself?”

“That's not how it works and you know it,” Alec grumbled, his eyes flickering to Jace, who was crouched down and looking for something near the sofas. “The Clave wants to know about our progress on this case; literally every detail. I'd rather pawn this outing off as a false alarm than a total failure and where do you think you're going?”

The last part was directed at Jace, who froze on his way towards the curtained exit. He turned and feigned nonchalance, which was always a dead giveaway. Alec raised an eyebrow. “I found something to track down the Mundane with,” he said, holding up a cell phone that must have fallen out of the red-head's pocket. “She could be in trouble. Protect and serve and all that.”

“And what, you're just going to ride in on your high horse and save her?” Alec asked incredulously. “No, stay away from the Mundane, Jace. She's trouble.”

“She could have information,” Izzy pointed out. Jace gestured at Izzy smugly like she had just proven him right and won him the argument.

“She was terrified,” Alec retorted. “She didn't have a clue what was going on. She has nothing to do with this case so just leave it alone. Something is out there murdering Mundanes, we should be focusing on that, not some random girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Okay,” Jace nodded, and for a brief moment, Alec actually thought that his _parabatai_ was going to listen to him. He should have known better. “You guys do that. I'm gonna check out the Mundane and find out what her deal is. Have fun CSI-ing Izzy!”

And with that the blonde was gone, vanishing through the curtains. Alec sighed and turned to his sister, who was smirking up at him. “What?”

“Nothing, brother mine,” she answered with a smile that shrank a little as she studied him. “Just... try and lighten up sometimes. Jace is only trying to look out for the girl, who really could be in trouble, you know. You really want to believe that it was a coincidence that she shows up here right when we're interrogating a suspect? Either she's connected to the shifters and was trying to warn them, or she's caught up with them some other way. Why are you so determined not to follow up on this?”

Alec chewed his lip a moment and then shrugged. It wasn't fair to dump the news that the Clave had passed down to him onto his sister too. She didn't need to know about the shit storm on the horizon.

Valentine was back.

Nearly twenty years since he had vanished without a trace, presumed dead in a fire following the Uprising, Valentine had cropped back up on the radar. Circle members that had gone into hiding were showing up all over the place, clearly looking for something, though no one would admit to knowing just what that something was. Whatever it was, it would be bad. War would be inevitable. Was it really so terrible that he didn't want his siblings on the front line?

There was something about the red-head that set Alec on edge. She seemed familiar, in a way, like he had seen a picture of her before or something. With Valentine back, anything could be connected to him. And Alec wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.

“Just tell me you can find something useful,” Alec deflected, gesturing around them.

Izzy nodded and got to work, pulling out various tools from the many pockets of her trench coat as she went full Sherlock Holmes. Alec stayed back, knowing that he just got in the way more often than not when Izzy was on an evidence hunt, choosing instead to keep watch on the party still raging on the other side of the curtain. It always made him a little jealous how Mundanes could just be so unaware of the danger that they were constantly in, without a clue as to just what was sacrificed to keep them safe.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, making Alec smile to himself as he read it. Izzy looked up from where she was perched on the sofa. “Who is it? Lydia?”

“Yeah, she just got out of a meeting with the Inquisitor.”

“Ah, dear old dad,” Izzy huffed. “Bet that was fun for her. How's Charlie?”

“Shadowhunters, wonderful,” a new voice announced sardonically. Alec had automatically stepped between Izzy and the newcomer, but he admittedly froze when he saw the glittery man that had appeared. Dressed fabulously in some brand Alec couldn't ever hope to name, hair styled in anti-gravity and make-up game on point, the new arrival levelled a cat-eyed glare at the two of them. _Warlock._ “I really need to put a sign up. Your kind is not welcome here.”

“But demons are?” Izzy countered, already on her feet with her arms crossed challengingly. “If you have been knowingly harbouring Raveners on your property than you are breaking the Accords. That's not good news for you, Warlock.”

“Raveners?” the Warlock asked, manicured eyebrows rising in tandem. Alec doubted that he had known about the demons, but had to remind himself that Downworlders could be tricky. Never trust one. Even if they're pretty ( _especially_ if they're pretty.) “Well isn't that just-- Okay, I don't think that we've been formally introduced; Magnus Bane. High Warlock of Brooklyn.”

“Isabelle Lightwood,” Izzy answered. Alec was too busy struggling to remember his name to actually say it, but thankfully his sister was taking charge of the conversation. Was he staring? He felt like he was staring. “The shifters have been peddling Mundane blood to someone through _your_ club, we need to know who. That seems like something the proprietor should know, don't you think?”

Magnus' eyes flickered from Izzy to Alec and back, the cats-eyes disappearing behind a glamour. Alec found that he missed them; which was weird, right? “Earlier tonight I evicted a couple of Circle members, I suggest that you direct your questions at them.”

And that broke the spell.

“Circle members?” Izzy repeated and _no._ Alec could not let her pull on that thread.

“We have to go,” Alec said, not a trace of a stutter or his previous fluster in his voice. Both Magnus and Izzy turned to look at him in surprise, but he ignored that. “That'll be all, thanks for your time. Try not to let any more demons into your club. Bye.”

“Alec, what the--” Izzy's protest was cut off as Alec grabbed her arm and forced her to leave. He was well aware that even in six inch heels she could most likely take him, but thankfully she stayed with him as they weaved through the club crowd and out into the night. As soon as they hit the curb she tugged her arm free, hitting him with a look that would have singed off eyebrows. “What the hell was that about?!”

“Don't worry about it,” Alec said, feigning calm when really his heart just wanted to burst out of his chest. _Circle_ _members?_ Shifters selling Mundie blood. The weird red-head... “I'll pass the details onto the Clave, they'll take over the investigation.”

“What? Why?” Izzy demanded. “What is it that's got you so twisted up? You've been acting weird ever since we got this case! What do you know that we don't?”

“It doesn't matter, Izzy, it's--” Alec suddenly doubled over, a burning pain scorching his side, right where his _parabatai_ rune marked his skin. Izzy grabbed his arm, helping him to stay upright. Any residual anger was gone from her expression as she stared at him with barely contained worry, waiting for him to remember how to breath.

“J-Jace.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I think I will continue this because *ideas* - sorry for the delay, I'll try and be a bit quicker now that I know I'm continuing, but I'm not guaranteeing anything because that always fails lol. Thanks so much for the kudos and comments!!!
> 
> Turns out, I won't be following either canons very much, but we will be closer to the show than the books (particularly appearance-wise, Matt Daddario is my Alec). There will also be a *seven years earlier* plot running alongside the *present*, just small scenes to fill in the gaps and explain various motivations - keep an eye out for little subtitles!

“What, no _'thank you'_ for saving your life?”

The mysterious red-head from Pandemonium stared at Jace in wonder and awe; though the expression could just as easily have been abject terror. Considering that there was a small invasion of demons happening in her loft – one of which had just disintegrated before her eyes – the latter description may have been more accurate.

“Who-- wha--” the girl stammered, her eyes flickering at the chaos around them, before settling on a point over Jace's shoulder and widening in fear.

And Jace realised that this was about to get real bad, real fast.

Alec always told him that he never watched his back – it was pretty much one of the main reasons that Alec had agreed to become _parabatai_ in the first place – but Jace had always shrugged it off. _'You're always there to watch it for me'_ was his usual response. Except this time, Alec wasn't there. Dropping slightly in an attempt to dodge the unseen attack, Jace spun on his heel and raise his _seraph_ dagger, impaling the Ravener that had snuck up behind him through the chest. But he wasn't quick enough to avoid the burn of poison that splattered across the back of his neck. “Dammit.”

“Mom!” the red-head yelled, almost directly in Jace's ear. Across the room that had fast become a disaster area, another woman – similarly red-headed but this one expertly wielding a _seraph_ blade – was fighting off some more of the human-looking shape shifters. A fresh cut had appeared along her collar bone, spilling crimson down her blouse. It didn't appear to faze her though as she glared defiantly at her opponents.

“This would all be over if you just hand over the cup,” one of the shifters growled; this one taking the form of an African-American man with a nasty sneer. Jace couldn't spare the attention to listen closer to the conversation, his focus on the Raveners that were intent on going after the girl.

“Not going to happen,” the mother retorted. “After all these years, you're still after it.”

“It's not for us,” the shifter stepped forward, revealing the soft blue glow of a _seraph_ blade in his grip. “It's for _him_.”

Jace thought that he was hallucinating when his eyes caught on the Angel weapon in a demon's hands. The Ravener poison was working quickly; stealing his balance and speed despite the powerful runes trying to counteract it. He could feel himself growing sluggish and sloppy as he cut through two more demons, but he didn't think that the poison was supposed to make him see things.

It wasn't until a second slash of blood cut across the warrior-mother's abdomen that Jace realised that some of their demonic foe were Shadowhunters. Shadowhunters working with demons.

Everything seemed to slow down as the red-head's mother dropped to her knees, eyes wide with pain and fear as her _seraph_ blade fell lifeless to the carpet. Her hands pawed uselessly at the blood pouring from her sliced open stomach. Her eyes met her daughter's for a moment, what looked like an apology forming silently on her lips, before she slumped sideways and fell still.

The girl choked on a scream as Jace slashed the throat of a Ravener that was trying to capitalise on his distraction; the shape-shifter exploding into ash. The rogue Shadowhunters had come to an abrupt stop, staring between themselves and the body on the floor.

“You weren't supposed to kill her!” one of them snapped. “Valentine wanted her alive!”

“She killed Kingsley!”

“I'm pretty sure that _you_ started it,” Jace interrupted with more confidence and bravado than he felt. His voice sounded a little weird, even to his own ears, but he deemed himself steady enough on his feet to pick another fight. Barely.

The Shadowhunter closest to Jace turned to glare at him menacingly. Smoke was starting to fill the apartment from a fire that had been started down the hall. The lights flickered in the storm raging outside, messing with Jace's poison-addled vision even more. But he couldn't miss the dark red circle that was raised like a welt on the man's neck. He had seen that rune before, every day on Hodge's throat, and although no one was allowed to speak of it, Jace knew what it meant.

They were Circle Members. One of them had said 'Valentine'. This was way bigger than just a few shape-shifters peddling Mundie blood. And he had run blindly right into the middle of it.

“Find the Cup,” the Circle member ordered his cohorts even as his dark eyes never left Jace. He swung his _seraph_ blade threateningly “You should have stayed out of this, boy.”

“And you should have stayed in hiding,” Jace retorted.

The rogue Shadowhunter sneered and leapt forward, opening with a lunge that Jace barely parried in time to avoid being skewered. They exchanged blows, the loud clanging of _adamas_ worsening Jace's already pounding headache; the blade growing increasingly heavy and slow in his hands. Across the room, he was vaguely aware of the girl collapsed against an overturned couch, distraught and broken. The few Raveners left were ignoring her – something for which Jace was grateful considering that it was taking everything that he had to simply hold his own against the Circle member.

And then he couldn't even do that anymore.

With a strike to his wrist, Jace's _seraph_ blade was evicted from his hand, leaving him open. The rogue Shadowhunter didn't waste a second. Stepping in close, he thrust his sword through Jace's stomach; stabbing viciously upwards until the blue glow of the blade protruded from his back.

“Another life wasted,” the Shadowhunter muttered as Jace gasped for breath. “I do hope that the Clave appreciates your sacrifice.”

Jace blacked out after that, the world blurring into darkness. It felt as if he were drowning. His vision wavered as if were going under, his lungs burned as if there were no air left... everything was just so heavy and dark like he were being dragged beneath the waves.

Through the haze he was vaguely aware of the mysterious girl shuddering into action. She crawled forward through glass and debris until her hand clasped around either her mother's or Jace's dropped _seraph_ blade. It reacted to her, just as it had at the club, lighting up the determination that strengthened her features. Jace weakly reached toward her, a warning lost in the blood clogging his throat, as she stood and turned to face the nearest demon.

What she lacked in skill she made up for in pure rage, but it wouldn't be enough to win her the fight. Jace watched through half-closed lids as she took the first Ravener by surprise, the creature exploding violently enough to knock her off balance, but then unconsciousness took him again.

* * *

 

The connection was growing weaker with every second. The pain was growing worse, trying to steal Alec's breath as he ran as fast as the speed rune would allow. Everything blurred around him, though he wasn't sure if that was the pace he was setting or the effect of Jace's wounds translating through the bond.

Behind him Isabelle was keeping up with him, trusting that he knew where they were going despite the fact that he realistically shouldn't. Sure, together on the battle field they always instinctively knew where the other was, but not over a distance like this. The _parabatai_ rune wasn't a supernatural GPS – it didn't work like that – but for some reason Alec just _knew_. The pain was like a beacon, telling him when to turn... screaming at him to move faster... guiding him even as he felt his strength waver right along with Jace's.

Alec splashed right through a puddle saturated with blood, but didn't pay it a second look. Pausing only a second to locate the building's door and transfer his bow ready to his hand, Alec nocked an arrow and shouldered his way inside. Finding the stairs, he took them two at a time, following the pulsing of the rune on his side.

The scene he found was one that he would never forget. The apartment was in shambles; somewhere a fire was burning and a smashed window allowed the storm to take residence inside. Ash from vanquished demons scattered in the wind that blew through as blood stained the floorboards. There were four bodies, not moving. One a red-headed woman and the other a man; neither of whom Alec immediately recognised. The girl from the club was sprawled near an overturned couch, two Raveners leering over her.

And then there was Jace.

Alec released his arrow, aiming for the demon hovering nearer to the girl, but didn't stop to see if the shot flew true. He trusted Izzy to take care of it and wasn't disappointed, her whip wrapping around the other demon's throat. Alec dropped to his knees beside Jace, eyes searching for the source of blood seeping through into his jeans.

“Jace? Jace, come on,” Alec tried. His bow was abandoned in favour of his _stele_ as he pulled open Jace's jacket and tugged up his shirt to find the _iratze_ rune on his side – and the gaping wound that tore through his abdomen. Running his _stele_ over the rune to activate it, Alec used his other hand to bunch up the remains of Jace's shirt and press it against the wound to try and slow the bleeding. “Jace, come on, you gotta wake up.”

Izzy had taken care of the remaining demons, her whip once more around her wrist as she investigated the other bodies. She crouched between the woman and the man, her face distorting into a frown as she noted the man's circle rune. When she checked on the girl, however, her curious expression turned to one of concern. “She's still alive,” she informed Alec, though he barely heard her. “Alec?”

The blood was finally starting to slow, and Alec let up the pressure so that he could grab a bandage from his gear jacket. The _iratze_ wouldn't be enough to completely heal the wound on its own, but Alec could feel the urgency begin to fade from their _parabatai_ bond. Carefully, he began to check for other injuries, finding the poison burns on Jace's neck and the slowly closing exit wound on his back.

“You should really buy me dinner first,” Jace croaked, pulling Alec's attention away from the knot that he was tying for the bandage. The blonde smirked up at his brother. His eyes were glazed with pain and poison, but his humour was still intact. Alec rolled his eyes. “The girl?”

Jace tried to sit up, but Alec kept him down with a hand on his chest. “Don't move.”

“She's alive,” Izzy repeated. She smiled warmly at Jace, glad to see him okay, before her gaze dropped back to the girl. “But she's been stung by a Ravener.”

Again, Jace tried to move, forcing Alec to have to pin him down to keep him still. “You've gotta rune her – the poison will kill her!”

“So will a rune, Jace,” Alec pointed out. “I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do for her.”

“No, no,” Jace argued. He struggled against Alec's hold, wincing in pain but not giving up. “Listen, she's a Shadowhunter. She used a _seraph_ blade. Over there, that's her mother. I saw her fight. Trust me, they're Nephilim. Please. You gotta help her. Please, Alec.”

Alec frowned down at his _parabatai_ , which was a major mistake. Wide, pleading eyes met his; melting his resolve. Izzy was looking at Alec expectantly, her _stele_ held ready in her hand, but Alec made a gesture that they should swap. There was no way in hell that he was letting his little sister accidentally make a Forsaken. “Fine,” Alec conceded, placing his hand flat on Jace's chest in warning. “But you have got to stay put.”

Jace nodded, his gaze following Alec as he stood before settling on the girl. Izzy quickly scooted over, kneeling by Jace's head and letting him rest back against her lap as she quickly double-checked his wounds for herself.

Dropping down beside the red-head, Alec could see just how bad the sting was. Her green hoodie was soaked dark with blood and rain, a sliver of the demon's stinger sticking out from between her collar bone and shoulder. If she were truly a Mundane, she would be dead already, but that didn't ease Alec's concern any as he gripped his _stele_. The consequences of runing a human... if he were to turn her into a Forsaken, even with the intent of saving her life... _By the Angel_ they would be so screwed.

The girl did look incredibly familiar. He had thought so in the brief glance that he had caught of her at Pandemonium, but now up close, he recognised her features. He _had_ seen her before – or at least, someone who looked just like her. Yeah... there was that photo, in Hodge's office...

“Alec?” Jace called, wondering why his brother was hesitating, but Alec was looking back at the other body. The older red-headed woman lay crumpled near by, but even in the low light of the smoke-filled loft he recognised her instantly.

Jocelyn Fairchild.

“This is her mother?” Alec asked quietly, despite their relation being fairly obvious. Jace didn't get a chance to answer though – the sound of sirens growing closer mingled with the thunder of the storm. The smoke from the fire must have attracted the mundane authorities. They needed to move.

Alec tugged back the girl's hoodie to reveal her neck, gliding his _stele_ over her skin in a well practised _iratze._ It wasn't the ideal first rune to apply to a Shadowhunter but it took, her breathing becoming a little easier even as the new mark burned. Jace visibly relaxed once Alec was done, slumping against Izzy who checked on her adoptive brother in concern. “He's passed out,” she said after a moment. “We've got to get them back to the Institute.”

“Yeah, but how?” Alec muttered. He knew that he could carry Jace, and he didn't doubt that Izzy would be able to lift the girl; but they were a long way from home right then. They couldn't exactly catch a cab like this, and navigating the subway would be interesting, even _with_ glamour runes. Not for the first time, Alec cursed their lack of transport. He really needed to convince the Clave to get them a van or something.

A slight movement to his left caught Alec's eye; his bow appearing in his hand and an arrow nocked and aimed in the same moment.

A low growl sounded from the shadows, and then a large paw stepped into the light. Warily, the large wolf came forward, revealing dark brown fur and unnaturally green eyes. Alec kept his arrow trained on the beast even as it melded into it's human form. In the corner of his eyes he saw Izzy taking a protective stance over the unconscious Jace, her whip ready in her hand. But then there was a black man crouched before them, dressed smart in a shirt and slacks, and Alec recognised him too.

Lucian Graymark. Once Valentine's _parabatai_ , presumed dead in a raid on a werewolf den over twenty years ago. Alec didn't miss the way that the man's eyes went straight to Jocelyn, glistening with grief, before focusing on the girl. There he took in the blood on her clothes and the new rune that glowed slightly red on her neck as it worked, his expression turning to concern. After a moment, he met Alec's eyes, and a silent communication passed between them.

Alec didn't know the whole story, but somehow, he _knew_ that the girl and Jocelyn Fairchild were this man's family. It went against everything Alec had ever been taught – trusting a Downworlder – but Alec lowered his bow. Izzy looked over at him questioningly, before relaxing her stance a little as well.

The sirens wailed closer.

“We need to get them back to the Institute,” Alec said calmly.

Luke nodded, taking a set of car keys from his pocket. “I can help.”

* * *

 

**Seven Years Ago...**

Alec stared down at the paperwork on his desk, but the words were performing a wild dance across the page. He rubbed his eyes his frustration and tried again, but the damn font just seemed to be getting smaller and more obscure every time that he tried to read it. He wasn't even sure what he was looking at anymore. It could have been a requisition form that needed approving or a mission report that he was supposed to sign off – hell, it could've been a damn shopping list for all he knew.

Sighing, he reached blindly for his coffee mug, taking a swig of the disgustingly cold drink before grimacing. It must have been a while since he'd gone out for a refill. He should probably go get another one.

Or he could just order someone else to go get it – he was the Head of the Institute now.

And wasn't that just _fantastic?_

He had been married _(married)_ for all of two weeks, and already his parents had stepped down and moved back to Idris, chasing their next high-level positions. In a way, Alec was grateful – at least his mother wasn't breathing down his neck anymore – but at the same time, he was _overwhelmed_. He was barely seventeen and nowhere near ready to be in charge of an Institute. Even with Lydia sharing the duties it was a full time job; and that was _without_ adding in the missions that he went on with Jace and Izzy to make sure that they stayed safe.

He was so tired. But every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Daniel.

Just thinking about his boyfriend ( _ex-_ boyfriend) made Alec's chest clench painfully, the guilt hitting him all over again. Everyone must have known what had happened, more or less. It was a fairly obvious conclusion to draw, considering that Alec's boyfriend had disappeared and within a month he was suddenly married. Though no one had mentioned the Mendozas since they had left, it didn't stop some of the other Shadowhunters living at the Institute from eyeing Alec with looks ranging from pity to fear. And Alec _hated_ it.

And then there was Lydia. Trapped in a loveless marriage forever. And it was _all his fault_. Sure, she seemed okay with it (for now) and she had reassured him on more than one occasion that she didn't blame him or anything. But she was _sixteen,_ younger than him. One day she would want more, and while he would never stop her from looking for love, the consequences for them both if she did would be monumental.

Alec shook his head, wishing that he could shake free his thoughts so easily, and attempted to return his focus to his paperwork.

Until a hand on his shoulder interrupted him.

“Hey,” Jace greeted quietly, his signature smirk oddly missing giving that he had just successfully made Alec jump. Alec hadn't even heard him come into the office, let alone appear behind him and place a small plate of food before him. “You missed dinner. And lunch. And breakfast.”

Alec's nose wrinkled at the smell garlic chicken and roast potatoes (clearly Izzy hadn't been allowed in the kitchen, good news for all) that usually would have had him salivating. Now it just made his stomach turn uncomfortably. “I'm not hungry. I had something earlier,” Alec lied as he pushed the plate away. He forced a smile and picked up his cold mug. “I could use a coffee though.”

Jace's expression softened into one of concern. “It's two-thirty in the morning, Alec.”

A side glance at the clock on the desk confirmed that it was in fact the dead of night, but Alec merely shrugged and faked nonchalance. “What are you doing up?”

The worry on Jace's face answered that question quite clearly. He was checking up on Alec, concerned for his _parabatai_ , but that just made the guilt on Alec's shoulders feel heavier. He never wanted to make his siblings worry about him – it was _his_ job to look after _them,_ after all – but it was getting a lot harder to pretend that he was okay. He had lied to Jace and Izzy about Daniel and his family to protect them; even going so far as to claim that the marriage was his idea and something that he and Lydia had totally planned and wanted. He doubted that they believed him, but he was grateful that they had seemingly played along.

Until his tendency to skip meals and avoid sleeping had become apparent, that is.

“Come on, you need to go to bed,” Jace said after a moment, tugging pointedly on Alec's arm to try and encourage him to move. “The paperwork will still be there in the morning. You know, after breakfast and a little sparring session.”

Alec shuddered at the thought of going to bed. He shared a room with Lydia now (as married couples were supposed to) and while she had never made a move and they slept fully clothed it was still ridiculously awkward. On their wedding night, when most people would assume they were... _you know_... they had lain side by side and passed the hours simply talking. They had an understanding, but that didn't stop things from being uncomfortable.

Jace seemed to notice Alec's apprehension. “You can stay with me.”

“Jace, I'm fine,” Alec tried to play it off. He picked up the top sheet of the paperwork and pretended that his tired eyes could still read it. “I've just got to get this done and then I'll come up, alright?”

Alec greatly underestimated Jace's stubbornness. The blonde glared at him for a moment, before taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “I'll wait.”

“What? No, Jace, you should go. This could take a while and it's nearly three in the morning.”

“Exactly,” Jace raised an eyebrow. “You literally have five minutes before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you upstairs myself.”

Alec heaved a greatly put upon sigh and turned his attention back to the form in his hands. At least, he thought it was a form. Judging from Jace's increasingly troubled expression, he could be wrong.

“Can you even read that anymore?” he asked after nearly a full minute had passed. He leaned forward and took it from Alec's hand before picking up the 'APPROVED' stamper and smacking it down. “It's a query form from Raj asking for some replacement monitors that Lydia already said that he could have, he just needed to fill out the paperwork. How long have you been staring at it?”

Alec blinked, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, which seemed answer enough for Jace. He stood again and forcefully hauled Alec out of his chair. “Don't make me carry you.”

An hour later and Alec lay beside Jace in the latter's bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. He had pretended to be asleep for a while, lulling Jace into a false sense of security as he closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, but as soon as his brother's soft snores had sounded in the quiet, Alec was wide awake.

Closing his eyes was dangerous, he had learned recently. The thoughts that he strove to ignore in his waking hours twisted into something even darker when left unattended. His nightmares presented him with a picture show of his guilt and fears; ranging from losing his siblings (a repeating nightmare that he had had since Izzy was old enough to hold a weapon and only gotten worse since Max) to Lydia resenting him, or the horrible scene of Daniel soundlessly crying out for help as demons tore him limb from limb.

Just recalling the visions had Alec's stomach cramping painfully, his throat closing as he silently gagged.

Engaging every bit of stealth he had, Alec snuck out from under the arm Jace had thrown across his chest and darted to the en-suite bathroom. He didn't bother to turn on the lights as he dropped to his knees before the toilet and lost what little he had eaten that day. There wasn't much to throw up, but his stomach didn't seem to get that memo, instead putting him through a series of dry heaves that brought tears to his eyes.

“Alec? Oh, dammit, Alec!” Jace cried as he pushed open the door and knelt down beside him. Alec cursed his weakness as Jace rubbed at his back to try and ease his pain – he should have made a run for another bathroom, far enough away that he wouldn't have woken his brother. But now... now Jace was never going to let this go.

“I'm okay,” Alec insisted weakly. He was panting from the exertion of essentially having his stomach yanked inside out and could barely hold himself upright, but he knew that he needed to reassure Jace. Jace threw him a look to tell just how much he believed him, before getting Alec a glass of water. He had to hold it still and guide it to Alec's lips because he was shaking so much, but between them he managed to down most of it.

They ended up slumped together on the bathroom floor, Jace holding his brother up as he half-hugged Alec against his side. “So... how long has this been happening?”

 _Since Daniel_ , was the truthful answer, but Alec couldn't admit that. He shrugged in Jace's grip. “Just once or twice. It's probably food poisoning from Izzy's cooking. I'll be fine.”

Jace harrumphed impatiently. “Alec, you haven't eaten Izzy's cooking recently. In fact, I haven't seen you eat _anything_ recently. Please stop lying to me. Or better yet, stop lying to yourself.”

“I--” Alec started, but then had to swallow as his voice cracked. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the fact that he was so utterly drained from the dry heaves. Maybe he just felt safe for the first time in Jace's arms. Whatever the reason, he found the truth spilling free, and he couldn't stop it. “I-I'm going to be fine, honestly Jace. It's just that... th-things have been hard lately and I'm--”

Alec tried to bite of his words, but Jace just held him a little tighter. “I'm _scared.”_

Jace's hand lifted up to tangle in Alec's hair, something Alec used to do for him whenever Jace's nightmares about his father's death would wake them in the night. “I'm so scared that I'm going to be the reason someone else gets hurt and I can't-- Lydia's stuck with me now and I don't think she realises what this marriage means. We can't just live our own lives, we have to-- there are going to be... _expectations_ and-- If we ever... if she ever wants to leave... I don't know what Mom will do to her, not after-- not after what she did to Daniel. Oh Angel, _Daniel._ ”

“I'm sorry about Danny,” Jace murmured softly, still playing with Alec's hair. “I know you loved him.”

“My love gets people hurt.”

Jace abruptly let go, shifting so that he could meet Alec's eyes. “That's _not_ true. Whoever made you think that is-- _ugh._ Look, what happened to Danny was not your fault. It was the Clave that decided to send his family to run the Haiti Institute, and Lydia? She's a pretty independent lady, Alec. She can make her own choices and... and... your love has _never_ hurt me or Izzy. Never.”

Alec's eyes dropped from Jace's mismatched ones. “Yet.”

“By the Angel, Alec,” Jace whispered. “What is it that you're not telling me?”

“It was Mom,” Alec said so quietly that if Jace hadn't already been in his personal space he never would have heard. It felt wrong, saying it out loud, admitting that a parent could do what Maryse had done to her own child, but Alec needed to tell someone. Someone who could understand just how much it hurt. “It was Mom who convinced the Clave to send the Mendozas away. But she didn't just-- to Daniel she--”

Jace was listening intently, eyes wide with horror but not disbelief. It wasn't that far fetched to him that Maryse would go to such extremes, but Alec couldn't shatter his connection with her completely. Maryse was the only mother that he had ever known. “And Lydia had about as much choice as I did. Mom was just trying to protect the family from me because I'm-- Because I'm not... _normal.”_

“Oh, Alec, no,” Jace sighed. He tugged Alec back against him, holding his _parabatai_ close enough that it almost hurt. Alec welcomed it, his hands curling into Jace's shirt as he held on just as tightly. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you, okay? You hear me? Nothing. Maryse is just scared of what she doesn't understand, and I'm sorry that I couldn't stop her. I wish I... I wish that I had known. I wish that I could have protected you like you always do for me. I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault, Jace,” Alec mumbled against his brother's shoulder. “It's done now, anyway. It can't be changed.”

Jace made an irritated sound, clearly unhappy about that but having no choice but to accept. “Whatever happens, I'm here, alright? You're not alone.”

* * *

 

**Present**

Isabelle leant against the door frame of the infirmary and watched her brothers. Jace was still unconscious – between the blood loss and the poison he was likely to be out of it for a day or so yet, but the Institute's healers had assured them that he would be okay. Alec had taken up residence beside his bed regardless, slouched in a chair with his feet up on the edge of the mattress, eyes staring off into the middle distance. It was like this every time either of them were hurt – they would never leave the other.

“Hey,” Izzy said, startling Alec. “How's he doing?”

Alec smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Oh, he's milking it by this point. Trying to impress the red-head.”

Izzy snorted. She looked over at the other occupied bed where said red-head was sleeping off the effects of the Ravener's stinger. They had been informed that her name was Clary Fray, and that she knew absolutely nothing about the Shadow World. It was going to be one hell of a shock when she eventually woke up. The werewolf, Luke, had stayed with her for a while, before he had wandered off to get some air, or whatever. Alec seemed strangely unperturbed for having a Downworlder unsupervised in the Institute; but Izzy was pretty sure that he knew way more about what was going on than she did.

The Circle was back – whatever that meant. Izzy had only recognised the rune because she had seen it on Hodge, and he was cursed to never be able to speak of what it entailed. Of course, she had heard of the Uprising, and of Valentine, the man who had lead it, but as far as she knew he was dead and the rebellion quashed. So why were they coming back now? And what did they want with mundie blood?

And why was her brother so scared?

“Alec?” she called as she stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. Alec hummed in response, his mind already lost in his thoughts again. Izzy frowned, “You didn't answer my question.”

“What question?” Alec asked.

“You know what all this is about, don't you?” She perched on the edge of Jace's bed next to Alec's long legs, her hand landing on her brother's knee. “At the club, you freaked out when Bane mentioned the Circle Members, and then with Clary; you wouldn't rune her until you recognised her mother. Who are these people?”

Alec looked up at her, studying her silently for a moment. His hand joined hers and squeezed reassuringly.

"Alec?"

"It's going to be okay, Izzy," he said in lieu of an answer. "I promise." 

 


	3. Chapter Three

It was two days later before Clary Fray woke up.

The healers assured Jace that it was all perfectly normal (or as normal as they could figure, considering that they had never had to deal with a new adult Shadowhunter before) – it was just the strain of a first rune on a body unaccustomed to Angelic power, on top of the poisoned sting, that was keeping her under.

So. No _need_ to worry then.

But he was. And he had _no idea_ why.

Factoring in that he didn't even know the girl, like, at all, he really shouldn't be so concerned. It was probably more creepy than anything that ever since he had been cleared for light duty (the near-fatal stab wound more of a deep cut by then) he had stayed by her side. Alec had left to do work as soon as Jace had woken up okay and Izzy had gone too; though both of them were still checking in regularly. Jace should probably have done the same instead of the weird stalker routine that he was pulling, but for some reason, he _couldn't_ leave.

Even the werewolf, who Jace guessed was some sort of father figure to Clary, had left the Institute. Admittedly, it wasn't often that a Downworlder got to walk into an Institute _and_ then also leave – he probably had to go reassure his pack that he hadn't been kidnapped by Shadowhunters or something – but considering the obvious affection that the werewolf had for Clary, Jace was a little surprised that he had taken Alec's offer to come and go as he pleased.

(And wasn't _that_ even weirder? Alec treating a _Downworlder_ like a friend despite all of the lectures that they had all heard a hundred times, saying that they should never trust one...)

There was something bigger going on he knew, Jace wasn't stupid, but he trusted his _parabatai_. Alec hadn't wanted them involved in whatever this was; that much was obvious. Ever since he had come back from Idris a few months before, Alec had been acting off. The Mundie blood case had had him on edge from the get go, but Jace figured that Alec was just trying to protect them like always. The girl, the werewolf, the Raveners – whatever it all added up to, they could handle it.

It wasn't like they had a choice anymore.

All because of the girl that Jace had had the compulsion to follow. He didn't even know why he had been so eager to track Clary down. She _was_ pretty, and perhaps a damsel in distress, which according to Izzy was just the type to set off Jace's hero complex, but that wasn't it. Ever since he had seen her, the _seraph_ blade blazing in her hand, he had felt this... _connection._ He couldn't really explain it. It was like he had found something that he didn't even know that he was missing. He needed to know _more_.

He _needed_ her to wake up. And wasn't that just so incredibly selfish of him? She had witnessed her own mother's _murder_ not forty-eight hours ago, and when she woke up, she was going to have to deal with that. Jace remembered how messed up he had been seeing his own father killed. He wouldn't wish that pain on anyone. And yet, he still wanted her to open her eyes.

Clary gave a low groan as she shifted on the bed, snapping Jace out of his thoughts. He watched cautiously as she groped her way back to consciousness, caught between wanting to hold her hand reassuringly and needing to give her space. This was going to be terrifying enough for her as it was, he didn't want to scare her any more.

She winced in discomfort as she turned her head, her hand flopping up near her neck in an uncoordinated attempt to find the source of pain. Her fingers touched at the still raw rune that Alec had drawn, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion before she had even opened her eyes. Jace waited as she carefully peered through thick lashes at her surroundings.

When her gaze landed on Jace, she yelped.

“Wh-- who are you?” she demanded, her voice rough from sleep. She had scrambled back against the headboard, as far away as she could physically get from Jace as her eyes flickered around the room in fear. “Where am I? What happened? Where are my clothes? Wh--”

“Woah, easy,” Jace interrupted. He had both hands up like he was trying to tame a wild animal, his seat pushed back from the bed so that it didn't feel like he was caging her in. Clary's wide eyes settled on him, watching him fearfully as she tugged the blanket up over her. She wasn't actually naked, but the oversized shirt that had been supplied with barely covered the same as a hospital gown would which, thinking about it, probably wasn't the best way to wake up with a strange guy staring at you. “I'm Jace. We met at the club, remember?”

Clary just stared at him blankly.

“Okay,” Jace murmured. “Okay, well, I was at the club with my brother and sister – tall guy, dark hair, girl in the white outfit? - nevermind. Um, we were there to stop...uh, to _talk_ to someone, when you came in. Do you remember that?”

“They... they looked strange, the people there,” Clary said more to herself than to Jace. Her gaze had dropped to the blanket wrapped around her legs as she struggled to recall. “Their faces didn't look right.”

Jace nodded. “Yes, yeah, because they were demons.”

“Demons?” Clary snorted in disbelief. “Are you for real? There's no such thing.”

“There is,” Jace went to argue automatically, before sighing. “But that doesn't matter yet. Look, why don't you tell me what you remember, and I'll fill in the gaps.”

Clary looked sceptical, but she relaxed a little against the pillows. “There was a woman, and you had a knife. I thought that you were going to hurt her so I tried to help, but then her face... her face it... it _changed._ Then there was, there was some kind of fight, I think? Yeah, there was a fight, and you dropped something and when I picked it up it lit up like a lightsaber and then--”

Horror dawned on Clary's face, her hands covering her mouth as she gasped. “Oh my god... I killed him, didn't I? I killed someone!”

“No! No,” Jace quickly denied, leaning forward and reaching for her. Clary flinched and burrowed further back against the pillows, staring at her hands as if they were covered in blood. “I swear to you, Clary. Those things were demons, Ravener demons – shape-shifters. They look like humans, but they're _not_ , they just wear their faces. What you did was a good thing, you _helped_ us.”

Clary blinked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Who _are_ you? How do you know my name?”

Jace decided that it was probably a little early to try and explain Shadowhunters and the Angel Raziel and all that jazz; the existence of demons was a big enough pill to swallow, so he focused on the second question. “You're friend was here, he told us.”

“Simon?!” Clary sat up, looking around. “Simon's here? Where?”

“Uh,” Jace said intelligently, only just realising that he didn't actually know the werewolf's name. Considering that Clary didn't seem to know anything about the Shadow World, he doubted that she would know who he meant if he just said 'the werewolf'. “Maybe? He's a black guy, about yay high, drove a Taurus?”

“Luke!” Clary exclaimed happily, still looking for him. “Where is he? Why is he here? And if he's here, then where's my Mom?”

Jace froze.

Nearly thirteen years ago, Jace had woken up just like this, in a room that he hadn't recognised, a Silent Brother perched on the edge of his bed. He remembered thinking how strange it was that the normally scary person could appear so casual and normal, and how Brother Zachariah's presence hadn't freaked him out. He didn't know how had he got there or what was going on, but he was weirdly okay. And then the Silent Brother's words had echoed in his head, carefully teasing a memory free from Jace's traumatised mind.

His father was gone. Slain by demons in their manor home in Alicante while Jace had hid under the stairs. He had watched it all; his first rune still burning from where his father had only just drawn it and a _seraph_ blade held tightly in his hands. He was only held still by his father's last order to stay put as blood splattered across the carpet. His father was gone.

Clary noticed Jace's silence, her searching gaze settling once again on him as concern softened her features. Jace met her eyes for a moment, and something seemed to click in her mind. “Where's my Mom?”

“Clary, I...” Jace began quietly. “I'm so sorry.”

“No.”

“You went home after you left the club,” he explained as Clary shook her head in denial. “By the time that I got there, there were demons in your apartment. Your mom was fighting them off...”

“No. No. No,” Clary repeated. Her hands covered her ears as if maybe if she didn't hear it then it wouldn't be true. Slowly, Jace moved forward, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently taking her hands and lowering them so that they were held loosely between them. “Please, no.”

“I'm sorry I couldn't save her,” Jace whispered. “She's gone, Clary.”

Her eyes grew wide, utterly stunned, like her brain had just come to a complete stop. For a moment, she didn't breathe, didn't move, didn't blink. A tear formed, catching on her lashes before falling gracefully to her cheek, breaking the dam.

The first sob that tore free was ugly and broken, a painful exhale full of grief. The tears fell quicker and her panicked breaths grew faster as she wrenched her hands from Jace's grip to tangle her fingers in her hair. She curled up and rocked back and forth, her legs getting caught up in the blankets though she didn't seem to notice or care. She just pulled at her hair and cried, trying to find some way to ease the pain inside.

Jace reached out to comfort her, but Clary flinched away from his touch. He didn't blame her. It was his fault after all. If only he had gotten there quicker. If only he had fought harder. If only she didn't have to feel the pain that he knew all too well.

Instead, he gave Clary her space. He stood from where he had been sat on the edge of the bed and wandered over to the stained glass window. He couldn't leave her alone, but he wasn't the right person to offer her comfort either.

They stayed like that for a while, nearly an hour passing before Clary's sobs calmed to silent tears. Her face was red and soaked and her eyes glazed as Jace handed her a glass of water and helped her drink it, her hands shaking too much to hold it steady. And then he got a wet wash cloth and gently wiped her cheeks, letting her take over once she had regained some control.

“Thank you,” Clary muttered after a while. “I--”

A shrill ring tone pierced the quiet, making Clary jump. Knowing that it wasn't his, Jace quickly stood and retrieved Clary's cellphone from the pile of belongings that they had grabbed from her apartment. He caught a glance of the caller ID; a picture of a guy with glasses and the name 'Simon' along the bottom, as he passed it over. Clary took it gratefully, a relieved smile lifting her lips as she pressed Accept.

“Simon, thank god,” she gushed desperately. “I need you. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“ _Where am I?”_ Simon's voice replied, Jace only able to hear both sides of the conversation thanks to his heightened senses rune. _“I've been calling you for days! The cops are at your place and I can't find Luke and your-- Clary, your mom...”_

“I know,” Clary said quietly.

Simon sighed regretfully. _“Tell me where you are, Clary. I used the Find My Friend app and it's telling me that you're in a creepy old church on Dayton. I'm standing outside like an idiot.”_

Clary clambered to her feet, stumbling a little from everything that she had been through, and staggered to the window. Jace watched her go, noting the way that the tension bled out of her shoulders as she looked down below. “I see you.”

“ _I don't see you.”_

“Give me five minutes, I have to get dressed.”

“ _Dressed?”_ Jace heard Simon exclaim and couldn't help but smirk. He stood up and followed Clary to the window. _“What are you doing_ un- _dressed in an abandoned church? Clary, is there-- is there a meth problem we need to talk about?”_

* * *

 

**Seven Years Ago...**

“We need to talk.”

Lydia looked up from the paperwork that she was currently attempting to sort through, grateful for the interruption. But then she saw the angry determination on Isabelle Lightwood's face and frowned in apprehension. At barely twelve years old, Izzy wasn't exactly intimidating; what with her make-up that was obviously applied through self-taught trial and error and her clothes that were clearly designed for an older and more voluptuous figure, but she was a Lightwood. Lydia recognised the same aura of strength and protectiveness that she saw in Alec, picking up on the tension immediately. “Of course, Isabelle – How can I help?”

“What did you do to Alec?” Izzy demanded. “What do you want with him?”

“Excuse me?” Lydia spluttered, caught off-guard. She had barely seen her new husband in the week since the wedding, let alone done anything to him. Most of her time had been sequestered by Maryse, the Lightwood matriarch seeing to Lydia's training with complete disregard for the 'honeymoon period'. She didn't even see him at night, despite having been assigned to his bedroom since their marriage. She suspected that he was seeking sanctuary elsewhere, and she didn't blame him. To be honest, she appreciated the space. It was weird enough living in a new place without having to share a bed with someone who was essentially a stranger.

Actually, everyone there was pretty much a stranger to her. She had lived in Idris with her father and younger sister Sophie all her life, never having had a reason to visit the New York Institute. She knew Maryse and Robert from Clave meetings she had attended with her father, but beyond them she knew no one else. She had no friends there, and no rapport with anyone. Add in the fact that she was younger than most of the people that she was now supposed to lead and the whole thing was rather daunting. Not for the first time, she wished that she could have brought Sophie with her, if only to have someone to talk to.

It was not what she expected. Being married. Living in New York. She was more than a little homesick and lonely, and now her brand new younger sister was glaring at her with such ferocity that Lydia felt herself cowering a little; which was _not_ like her at all.

“The wedding was a stunt,” Izzy declared, and Lydia was a little surprised by her insight. Alec had told her that as far as his siblings were concerned, the wedding was intentional and planned and in no way coerced, but clearly Izzy hadn't totally bought that. “We both know it, but I don't understand what _you_ get out of it, because I can promise you, it _won't_ be Alec. No matter how hard you push him he just won't be able to feel for you that way so you better back the hell off--”

“Wait-- _push_ him?” Lydia interrupted. And _oh._ Now she understood why Isabelle was so angry. “Isabelle, I... By the Angel. No, the marriage was strictly a _business_ partnership. You're parents were looking to return to Idris for Council positions, and while Alec is capable of running this Institute on his own, the Clave prefers couples to run together. We're both of similar ages and I have the training... it was a _logical_ choice.”

It made sense when she put it like that. That was the way that her father had explained the proposal to her and she had taken it at face value. A professional relationship to put her in a stronger position within the Clave. A fast track to a high level promotion. Her father had assured her that that want was mutual for both parties, and once Alec had allayed her fears of a romantic entanglement, she hadn't given the personal commitment any more thought.

Now though? Now she was alone; facing New York and the intricacies of running an Institute without her father or sister – not even her husband, as of yet. And the door was well and truly closed behind her.

Isabelle was watching Lydia with dark eyes far more intelligent than her age suggested, causing the older girl to blink and paste on a smile. “That's all this is to you?” Izzy asked. “Business?”

“I'm a little ambitious.”

Isabelle nodded, as if maybe she could understand that, the desire to go after what one wanted with stubborn determination, but there was something guarded in her gaze too. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back a little. “So you two haven't... _you know_... Done it?”

Lydia almost choked on her coffee that she had made the mistake of sipping, a couple of drips staining her paperwork. She knew that Alec hadn't been closeted – most of the Institute had known that he wasn't straight, including his siblings. Suddenly married to a woman, Lydia could understand why Izzy thought that she expected more from Alec than he could give; it was a logical leap, if completely untrue. “Oh, Angel, _no,”_ Lydia coughed. “I know about you're brother's... _preferences_ , and I promise, I'm never going to force him to do something that he doesn't want to do. Besides, I don't feel that way about him either.”

“But you do _care_ about him, right?”

Now that was a question. Since their wedding, she had only really spent the first night with him. They had talked and learned things about each other, but they were friends of circumstance rather than chemistry. Lydia shrugged. “Honestly, I barely know him. We've talked, kissed once at the altar, exchanged runes and... and promised ourselves to each other forever... and ever...”

Lydia's hand fluttered unconsciously to the new, _permanent_ rune above her heart; the scarred skin abruptly feeling tauter across her chest. She wasn't afraid of commitment. She had _known_ that what she was signing up for was for ever, but saying it out loud – admitting that the loneliness that she was currently felt could be her future – it made the weight of realisation feel all that much heavier. Lydia sighed, “He's a good man, honest with me from the beginning and--”

She recalled their first meeting, where they had both laid their cards on the table, and she had witnessed how broken he was even as he had tried to hide it for her sake. She thought of their wedding night, spent talking until dawn, and how, since then, he had kept his distance but _never_ once been cold to her. He was a victim in this, she knew, and it would have been so easy for him to see her as his jailer. But he didn't. They were in this together. Perhaps 'alone' wasn't the best way to describe her situation after all.

“And yes,” Lydia smiled. “I guess I do care for him.”

Isabelle studied her a moment longer, and then she sunk into the chair on the other side of the desk. All remaining hostility melted from her demeanour, replaced instead with concern. “I don't understand why he would agree to this,” she admitted pensively, staring at the whorls in the wood. “He told us that this was planned, that this was what he wanted but-- He's not _happy_ anymore.”

Lydia may not have known Alec before, but she knew what Isabelle meant. She also knew why – having a huge part of himself completely unaccepted by his own mother, his first (and likely _only_ ) boyfriend sent away by said mother, and then being forced into a marriage with a girl _knowing_ that he could never find love there – it was enough to crush anyone. But Lydia also suspected that Izzy didn't truly know the half of it, natural intuition or not, and it was in no way Lydia's place to tell. Instead, she nodded in understanding, encouraging the pre-teen to continue.

“Before, with Daniel, he was comfortable with who he was but now he's... he's like a ghost. Like he's not even here anymore,” Izzy explained sadly. “He says he's busy, what with Dad training him to take over, but even when Dad's not here he's avoiding us. Jace tried to get him to spar together the other day, but Alec flinched – literally _flinched_ – like he didn't want to be touched.”

“That's why you thought that we had been... _intimate_.”

“It made sense,” Izzy shrugged with all the petulance of a twelve year old. “You _did_ just get married. I know what that implies.”

Lydia grinned and shook her head. “That's not our relationship, and I don't think it ever will be,” she replied reassuringly, reaching across the table to grasp one of Izzy's hands. “This whole thing, it's new, for everyone and it's going to take some getting used to. But my role, the whole point of me being here, is to support Alec, and I promise you that's exactly what I'm going to do.”

Izzy looked thoughtful for a moment, her brown eyes meeting Lydia's blue ones. “I love my brothers,” she said fiercely, before breaking out in a smile. “But I've always wanted a sister.”

* * *

**Present**

"Why is there a mundane in the Institute?"

Clary turned away from Simon to glare at the new arrival, taking in the dark clothes, dark hair and imposing zig-zag tattoo on his neck before purposely putting herself between her friend and the stranger. They were gathered in what she guessed was the main room, surrounded on all sides by supposed 'Shadowhunters' busy doing whatever it was that they did to protect the world or whatever. Isabelle had helped Clary find something to wear while giving her the abbreviated low down on the Shadow World.

She wasn't sure that she believed it at first. Werewolves, vampires, seelies, warlocks, demons... it was a _lot_ to accept. She wanted to deny it all, despite what she had witnessed, some part of her believing that if all of this was fake; some ridiculously elaborate ruse, then perhaps her mother... Perhaps that wasn't true either.

She shook herself, not wanting and not able to dwell on her grief any longer. That was a truth that she did not want to think about.

"He found Clary," Jace was answering as Clary shook herself back to the present. "A Circle Member followed him here. I took care of it."

The tall guy glanced around as if afraid someone would overhear them, but despite being in a busy room no one was paying them any attention. "No one else knows? Security wasn't alerted?"

"Shadowhunter," Jace shrugged. "The wards didn't see him as a threat, and I only noticed because I saw him out the window."

"And then decided to invite the Mundie inside," tall guy raised an eyebrow.

Jace side-eyed Simon with a slight twist of a sneer on his lips, before his gaze flickered to Clary and softened. It made something warm flutter in her stomach, but Clary ignored it, glancing away self consciously. "I didn't have much choice in that."

Isabelle stepped forward and looped her arm around the tall guy's, leaning into him and looking up through her eyelashes. "Relax, Alec. Simon's fine. I've explained to them both about the Shadow World and Clary... well, she needed a friendly face, okay?" Izzy smiled warmly at Clary, and then turned to Simon, the smile turning into a grin. "Besides, he's kinda nerd hot."

Simon flushed scarlet, but tried to hide it behind annoyed exasperation. "Standing, right here."

Clary leaned into Simon's side, her best friend automatically wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her a moment in comfort and reassurance. It felt so good and so normal, that for a second, she almost smiled. But then a memory of her bantering with her Mom and Simon flashed across her mind's eye and she found herself swallowing a sob instead. Even with everything that was happening, she kept tripping over thoughts and memories and- "Luke!"

The closest man to a father that she had ever known walked in with another man that had a strange red circle on his neck beside him; several of the Shadowhunters looking up from their work to eye Luke suspiciously. Clary knew what their problem was; Isabelle had explained that Luke was actually a werewolf and as such a Downworlder, but that didn't make any difference to Clary. She ducked out from under Simon's arm and ran straight into Luke, breathing in his familiar warmth as she was wrapped in a hug.

"Clary, oh, Clary, I'm so sorry," Luke murmured against her hair as he held her. "Your mom... I... I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"It's okay, Luke. It wasn't your fault," Clary sniffled and shook her head. She thought that she had cried all that she had, but more tears slipped free. She was only vaguely aware of the others moving away and the Shadowhunters turning back to their computers as she scrubbed at her cheeks. "I just... it hurts so much and I don't understand... I have so many questions. Why did she never tell me about this? How could she hide an _entire world_ from me? I just- I just miss her so much, Luke"

Luke ran his fingers through her hair. "I know, I'm sorry. I miss her too," he said quietly. "All this, it's... it's dangerous Clary. She never wanted any of this for you, but only because she wanted to protect you. She was going to tell you soon, the spell was starting to wear off anyway, but she just wanted to keep you safe a little longer."

Clary pulled back a little. "Spell?"

"I'll explain everything, come on."


	4. Chapter 4

It was still night out, but the room glowed in the reflections that the stained glass windows threw across the room. An old oak table took centre stage, scratched and worn and covered in scattered papers and tablet computers, a map of the city buried underneath. The walls around them were exposed brick and the floor was ancient flagstone, while a large computer screen took up one side of the room and a one-way glass partition cut them off from the busy room beyond. A modern war room in a historic church.

Clary sat in the middle chair along one length of the table, Simon tucked to her left and Luke on her right. Isabelle and Jace took their seats opposite with Hodge, the man that had been with Luke, tagged on the end. Alec had taken the head seat, his eyes stubbornly focused on anything but the people present and the small piece of paper clutched in his hands.

"What is going on, big brother?" Isabelle broke the silence.

"Valentine is back," Alec announced without preamble. The words were clearly supposed to have weight, but Clary didn't understand why. Isabelle chewed her lip and Jace shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glancing to Hodge and the red circle burned into his neck before dropping to the table. Clary recognised the mark, or 'rune' she guessed that she should probably call it.

The men that had killed her mother had had them.

"And Valentine is?" Simon asked in typical Simon manner. "Other than the patron saint of foam arrows and cheesy greetings cards, that is."

Luke gave a small smile, just a quick quirk of his lips before his expression fell again with a guilty sigh. "Perhaps we should start this with a history lesson," he suggested, looking to Alec for a moment before taking a breath. "Nearly twenty-five years ago I was still a Shadowhunter, and my _parabatai_ was Valentine Morgenstern. He was my best friend and brother, once, and I would have done anything for him."

Jace and Alec shared a look, and Clary remembered what Izzy had told her about _parabatai_. It sounded weirdly intimate; a permanent bond closer than brothers but different from love, and breaking that bond... Izzy said that it could be fatal. Luke's hand was unconsciously rubbing at his forearm where once a rune had probably been burned into his skin. Since being Turned, all of his marks had faded, but Clary suspected that Luke still remembered each and every one.

"Back then, the Downworld was in chaos as the Clave tried to renegotiate the new Accords, and a lot of Shadowhunters were losing their lives in petty skirmishes," Luke explained. "One of the casualties was Valentine's father, who was killed in an altercation with a werewolf Alpha. It completely changed Valentine."

Hodge grumbled something under his breath, but Luke ignored him. "We were a small group of friends when he first started talking. He was charismatic and smart and what he was saying actually made sense to us. He just wanted to protect Shadowhunters from dying pointless deaths while all the Clave did was hold meetings and debates that never went anywhere. He wanted us to be more proactive, stopping Downworlder problems before the Clave would typically have intervened.

"But then he started leading hunting parties into Downworlder territory, accusing them of various crimes to support his actions," Luke shook his head in shame. "It took us far too long to realise that the claims were baseless and he was simply playing judge, jury, and... and _executioner,_ with no proof beyond the fact that the 'guilty' were Downworlders."

"Why didn't the Clave stop him?" Clary asked, horrified.

Luke scoffed humourlessly. "The Clave believed his lies just like the rest of us. We all thought that we were doing good. Even as Valentine spiralled quickly he was still so good at getting people to see things his way. The Circle kept growing every day. We had all lost someone – Shadowhunters are soldiers, loss is inevitable – but Valentine made it seem like it was all avoidable if only we would rise up and take control."

It all seemed so ridiculous to Clary. How could these people have not seen that what they were doing was wrong? Why were Valentine's lies so easily believed? And how could _Luke_ have been a part of it?

"Eventually I found out that his hate ran deeper than his father's loss," Luke continued. "Valentine was jealous of the power and gifts that Downworlders possess, and started experimenting with their blood, trying to gain that power for himself. It twisted him even further, even crueller than before. I saw it, his wife saw it, but the Circle was still going strong and there didn't seem to be any way to stop it.

"And then Valentine made a play for the Mortal Cup."

Simon leaned forward so that he could see past Clary. "And that would be?"

"One of the Mortal Instruments entrusted to us by the Angel Raziel," Isabelle answered. "There's the Mortal Mirror which has been lost for centuries, the Mortal Sword that can force whoever holds it to tell only the truth, and the Mortal Cup. It has the power to control demons, and can create new Shadowhunters if mundanes were to drink from it."

"So Valentine wants the Cup thing to make a demon army?" Simon struggled to understand.

Alec clenched his teeth. "No, he wants to create a _Shadowhunter_ army."

Izzy's eyes widened at her brother's words. "But that's forbidden," she exclaimed, "and actually for a genuine reason. Drinking from the cup is more likely to burn up a mundane or drive them insane. Valentine could kill hundreds just to turn enough people for a for a fireteam."

"That doesn't matter to him," Luke scoffed bitterly. "Downworlders collectively outnumber Shadowhunters massively. If all of them, all of the werewolves, vampires, warlocks and seelies, were to band together, the Clave wouldn't stand a chance. Valentine is afraid of them, jealous of them and wants to destroy all of them. If he ever gets his hands on the Cup, there would be a genocide."

"That's what they were looking for at Clary's apartment," Jace said. "I heard one of the Circle Members asking Cl- asking for the Cup, but why would they think she had it?"

The air felt heavy in the room, the sudden warmth stifling despite the autumn chill. Luke ducked his head and then nodded at Alec, who was clutching the piece of paper in his hands even tighter than before. He shot an apprehensive look at his sister, before flipping the paper over and placing it on the table.

It was a photograph. An old one, creased from where Alec had held it, but otherwise in good condition as if it had been kept in a frame. From its surface a group of eight or so people smiled at the camera, all dressed in Shadowhunter black and adorned with runes, and more than a few weapons, despite the casualness of the image. Izzy gasped when she saw it, her hand reaching for it, but Clary was quicker. There, almost right in the centre, was Jocelyn Fray.

"That... that's my Mom..." Clary stuttered. "She, she was a part of the Circle? Why? How?"

Luke couldn't meet her eyes, so Alec leaned forward, pointing at the young man in the middle of the frame. "This guy, standing right next to her? That's Valentine Morgenstern. Jocelyn _Morgenstern's_ husband."

Luke took a breath that sounded painful. "He's your father, Clary."

Clary didn't think that her world could have broken apart any more than it already had, but she was wrong. Her mother, the one constant in her life, was gone, brutally taken from her, and it felt like she were drowning in the pain of it. From there it was just one hit after another: a whole other world that her Mom had hidden from her, all the lies that were suddenly coming to light... And now her father, the man she had secretly always wished wasn't as dead as her mother had told her...

Well, her wish had come true. In the worst way possible.

It was too much. Oh, god, it was too much. The rug had been pulled out from under her feet and she was still falling, scrabbling for purchase when there was none to be had. Simon grabbed her hand and she clung to it like a lifeline; only mildly aware of the conversation still going on as she stood in the crater that last bombshell had left her in.

"Our parents...?" Isabelle was saying, her dark eyes dancing from the photo in Clary's hands, to Alec, and then to Hodge. "Our parents were part of the Circle too? But... but they have no rune-"

"A lot of people were part of the C-c-c- _gah!"_ Hodge broke off with a cry of pain. The raw looking circle rune flared as if it were being seared anew, cutting off whatever he had been trying to say.

Izzy winced in sympathy. "But you were cursed, imprisoned in this Institute, _punished_ for your crimes," she said in disbelief, apparently referencing the reaction Hodge had just had. "My parents... no one even knows! They were _given_ an Institute! My father is the goddamn _Inquisitor!"_

Hodge grimaced. "The Lightwood name holds more weight than Starkweather. They defected just before the U- _Uprising_ ," he hissed through clenched teeth, the rune actually smoking a little. "They gave the Clave intel that I couldn't and... well, they had a bargaining chip that I've never had. They had Alec. Raising another soldier, and the potential of creating more... That will always be more valuable to the Clave than a traitor."

At the mention of Alec, Isabelle turned on her brother. "How long have you known? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Why does my f-" Clary interrupted. Her voice croaked and broke around the word 'father', so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Why does Valentine think that my Mom had the Cup?"

Alec looked relieved at the change of topic and carefully avoided his sister's glare. "She took it from him."

Luke nodded. "During the Uprising, Valentine led the Circle into the middle of the signing of the New Accords. It would have been a slaughter had Jocelyn and I not been able to convince the Clave and the Downworlders in attendance of the danger. It was chaos, and Valentine used that to break into the Sanctuary and steal the Mortal Cup. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't. It was Jocelyn that took the Cup from him and fled."

Clary tried to picture her Mom; quiet, friendly Jocelyn Fray, standing up to a madman and winning a fight that Luke couldn't. The image just didn't fit with everything that she had ever known, and it just made her feel as if she had never known her mother at all.

"I thought that she was dead for a long time," Luke said sadly. "The last I saw, Valentine was chasing after her and then she vanished. I heard that their home had been burned to the ground and that the Clave had found evidence that he had been killed by the flames. I never truly believed it though. Years later I found you and Jocelyn in New York, living a completely mundane life."

"But she's a Shadowhunter," Jace pointed out. "She has the Sight."

"Jocelyn found a warlock to cast a spell to suppress it, periodically refreshing it and removing any memories that revealed the Shadow World."

Clary whipped around to stare at Luke. "She took my memories?"

"To protect you," Luke placed a hand on Clary's arm designed to reassure. "Everything she ever did was to protect you. Valentine never knew that he had a daughter, and your mother wanted to keep it that way."

Clary furrowed her brow in confusion, looking again at the picture in her hands. Though her mother was still clad in the gear of a Shadowhunter, there was no mistaking the rotund protrusion of her belly. "How could he not know...? She's clearly-" Clary blinked, a horrible thought occurring to her. "When was this picture taken?"

It was Hodge that answered. "Twenty-two years ago."

"But I'm eighteen. She's pregnant. Who-" Clary's voice dropped to a whisper. "Who is she pregnant with?"

No one seemed to want to answer that question either, making Clary's stomach twist painfully as worst case scenarios rushed through her mind. After a moment, Alec bit the bullet. "Their first kid. Jonathan Morgenstern."

"I have a brother?"

"You _had_ a brother," Alec ripped the bandaid off quickly. "After the fire, Clave investigators found two sets of remains; one adult male, and one... infant. It was assumed that Valentine killed his wife and then took his own life and his son's in the fire."

Clary couldn't even react anymore. She thought that terrible things were supposed to happen in three's, but she had lost count by now. Her Mom's dead. Her father was a genocidal maniac. And she had a brother that didn't even make it to two. What was she supposed to do with this? How was she supposed to cope? She had had so many questions... but the answers... the answers were _so much worse_.

"But if Valentine's alive, who did he kill instead?" Jace asked. He was watching Clary in concern, but it was taking all of her focus just remembering to breathe to really pay him any attention.

Alec shrugged. "No one knows. All the Clave cares about is the fact that the Cup is still out there and Valentine wants it. They've been searching for it since they lost it, but they upped the priority when Circle Members started coming out of hiding." He sighed, his shoulders hunching as if it were possible for his six foot something frame to shrink smaller. "A couple of months ago they issued a mandate for all Institute Heads to focus on the search without actually telling anyone what it was they were looking for. Anything suspicious was to go through the Inquisitor. They figured Valentine might have something to do with the Mundie blood case because he's experimented before-"

"The Demonic Murders?" Luke queried. "The pack's been following that too. The NYPD thinks its Satanism. We were looking at vampires for a while, but no bites. But why would Valentine be interested in mundane blood?"

Simon squeezed Clary's hand. "Let me get this straight. A megalomaniac wants a magic cup so that he can be the next Hitler, but no one knows where said cup is because Jocelyn hid it. I take it she didn't tell you either, Luke, right?"

"We both agreed that it was best if she were the only one that knew."

"Okay, so, no one can find it," Simon concluded. "I highly doubt that Jocelyn left a map and a series of clues for us to follow like Indiana Jones. So why doesn't the Clave just leave it lost? It's not like they could use it either."

"Because as long as it is out there, there is the possibility that V-V-V-" Hodge grunted in frustration and pain. "-that monster can find it and use it."

Luke smirked. "And pride probably comes into play as well. It was stolen right out from under them by one of their most praised Shadowhunters after all."

"The thing is, as far as the Clave is concerned, there _is_ someone who can find it," Alec said apprehensively. "You."

Clary snapped out of her daze as she felt Alec's eyes on her. _"Me?_ But I didn't even know this world existed a week ago! I don't know anything about the stupid Cup, and even if I did, half my memories have been erased!"

Alec glanced at his siblings then down at the table. "There's a way around that," he muttered. "They'll take you to the Silent Brothers and put you to the Sword."

"No." Both Izzy and Jace denied with a vehemence that surprised Clary.

"The Mortal Sword?" she questioned, wondering why the Lightwood's seemed so against it. "But how can I tell a truth that I don't even know? Would the whatever brothers be able to get my memories back?"

"No," Jace repeated forcefully.

"It depends," Izzy answered more diplomatically, earning a glare from Jace. "It's incredibly risky, and if the warlock that took your memories was powerful, the Silent Brothers wouldn't stand a chance anyway. Considering what your mother went through to protect you, I doubt that she trusted your memories to some two-bit summoner."

Luke huffed an ironic laugh. "It was Magnus Bane."

Izzy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, the Silent Brothers would be useless. But on the plus side, Bane's local."

"And we have something of his that we can bargain with for his co-operation-" Hodge added before a knock at the door interrupted him. One of the Shadowhunters from the main room popped his head around the door, his eyes going straight to Alec.

"Alec? The Inquisitor's here."

Izzy's eyebrows shot up. "Dad?"

Alec sighed. "Crap."

* * *

**Seven Years Ago...**

Robert Lightwood pulled at the tie that had been striving to cut off his air supply for the past three hours. It felt like a noose around his neck, getting tighter and tighter as the wedding ceremony had gone on and on, but he hadn't made a move to loosen it. He just kept telling himself that there was nothing he could do.

It was for the best.

Maryse stood before the mirror in their bedroom, smiling at her reflection as she removed her earrings, until her dark eyes settled on Robert over her shoulder. "Whatever it is that has got you so wound up I suggest that you get over it."

"He's seventeen years old, Maryse." The words escaped him unbidden, and Robert instantly wished that he could take them back. All at once it was as if the temperature in the room had actually dropped a few degrees, as Maryse straightened and turned to settle her glare directly on him.

"So was I," she stated simply, daringly. "And you were barely any older. Do you believe that _we_ were too young? That _our_ marriage was a mistake?"

There was no right way to answer that, Robert knew, so he stayed carefully silent. In truth, he had married Maryse because it had been the logical next step in their relationship. They had been dating exclusively since they were about fourteen, pushed towards each other by their respective parents, and when it became clear that backing out was not an option, Robert had gone all in. Love, perhaps, was not really a factor. Maryse was a difficult woman to love. But he had admired her. She was strong, beautiful, determined.

But no one stayed perfect.

She had been an amazing mother once too. Stern, perhaps a little pushy, but she had only ever wanted what was best for her children. She had cried the day that she had first placed a weapon in Alec's hand; the scrawny eight-year old too small for the _seraph_ blade passed down to him, his eyes too wide and innocent for what they would one day see. But they were Nephilim, born soldiers. If Alec didn't learn to fight then he would die, simple as.

Maryse had distanced herself after that, not letting herself get as close to her infant daughter as she had to her first born son if only to make it a little easier later. She still cared, she still loved, but she became a commander first and a mother second.

She turned her children into some of the best Shadowhunters Idris had ever seen. She gave them a fighting chance. But it was a delicate balance to strike, and after a while... after _Max..._ Maryse fell into the role that she felt she had to in order to perform her duty. And there was nothing more important to her than that.

"I am only trying to _help_ Alec," Maryse stated coolly, gesturing for Robert to help her with the zipper on her dress. "He is the weakest, he won't survive in the field with a _bow_ of all weapons. Running the Institute will keep him safe. The Clave would only have ever let him lead if he married and would most definitely _not_ have if they ever found out that he was... broken. I am doing this to _protect_ him from himself."

Robert nodded, understanding the logic. Being gay wasn't exactly unheard of in Idris, but it wasn't accepted either. Nephilim were a military race, and it all came down to numbers: the more of them there were, the more powerful they were. If you couldn't contribute to that, then you lost your worth in the eyes of the Clave. If they ever found out about Alec, he would become little more than a sacrificial pawn to them. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right, but what Maryse had done was truly for the best.

"At least they have time to get to know each other before the deadline," Robert said, more to reassure himself than anything, but the way that Maryse stiffened for a moment made him blink. "You did tell them, didn't you?"

"Alec is smart, he would find some way around it if given enough time. Besides, the experience could be just what he needs to fix him," Maryse answered calmly.

"And if he can't through with it?" Robert asked. "Do you really wish what happened to you upon Lydia? She's just a girl! She has no idea what she's signed up for."

"The Law is hard, but it is the Law."

Robert hated that goddamn phrase. "When do you intend to tell them?"

Maryse didn't answer. She focused instead on carefully folding the dress that she had worn for the wedding and tucking it into the trunk at the foot of the bed. Robert watched her, searching for the woman that he remembered, before her softer side had been hammered into a hardened shield.

"Is this because of her father?" Robert asked carefully as Maryse's shoulders tensed under her nightgown. "What that man did to you-"

"Was for the best," Maryse cut Robert off forcefully. "Without him I would not have Max, and he will be the strongest, fastest and best of them all. He will be coming with us to Idris so that I can focus on his training. I will not allow him to be corrupted by this city like the others. We leave by the end of next week."

Robert blanched. "But that's too soon! We can't train Alec and Lydia that fast."

"They will sink or swim," Maryse stated. "Alec will prove himself worthy of what I have done for him or he will fail. This is his _last_ chance."

* * *

**Present**

"What?" Alec demanded the moment that his office door was closed. Everyone in the Institute may know that he didn't have the greatest relationship with his father, but they still couldn't see him being outright rude to the Inquisitor.

Robert frowned at his son. "Don't take that tone with me. I'm here to help you."

Alec scoffed, "Forgive me if I don't believe you. Your 'help' hasn't ever benefited me before."

A look that could have been guilt flickered across his father's face, which almost made Alec automatically apologise before he bit his tongue. Even after all this time and all the things that his parents had put him through, his first instinct was still to take the blame regardless of the situation. Steeling himself, Alec levelled a glare at Robert instead, daring his father to retort.

Robert opened his mouth, but shut it again with a sigh; studying his son for a moment as if he didn't recognise him. "The girl, is she awake yet?"

"No," Alec lied, burying the urge to glance over his shoulder to where Clary was actually sitting hidden in the war room. He knew exactly what the Clave would order him to do to her if they knew. Even though he had been the one to bring up the Silent Brothers, he didn't particularly _want_ to send Clary to the City of Bones either. He doubted that she would walk away sane – if she walked away at all. "The healers say that she could be out for another few days. The sting was pretty deep and she had never been runed before. It's amazing that she's still alive."

If Robert noticed the lie, he didn't show it. He nodded thoughtfully. "And the werewolf?"

"Hodge and I interviewed him," Alec shrugged – not technically a lie. Before the meeting he had sat down with the two former-Circle Members trying to put as much of the story together as possible. After learning what Luke had done for Clary and Jocelyn over the years, Alec found that he trusted the werewolf. But he also knew that the Clave _wouldn't._ "He's just a caretaker that Jocelyn paid to keep an eye on the girl. He didn't know anything. Didn't even know who Jocelyn was."

"The Clave will want to speak to him."

Yeah, that could never happen. One look and they would know that Luke was in fact Lucian Graymark – no way would they ever believe that he didn't know anything. There were no names on the reports; a Downworlder's right to anonymity unless directly charged with a crime, but a face-to-face would unravel the web of lies that Alec was weaving to protect them. "He's back with his pack now," Alec replied. "I can send a summons but he doesn't have to answer it. He hasn't broken the Accords, we have no jurisdiction."

Robert scoffed. "He's a _Downworlder,_ he's a suspect," he said with disdain. "They _lie,_ Alec. You know this. Call him in for an interrogation, whatever it takes. Once the girl's awake we'll take them both to the City of Bones. The Silent Brothers will get to the truth."

Alec was risking a lot to keep that from happening, but he nodded his apparent consent anyway. He had bought them time at the very least. He could probably claim that Clary was comatose until the end of the week and hopefully keep Luke out of the Clave's line of fire, but inevitably it would fall apart sooner or later. They needed to find the Cup before then, it was the only bargaining chip that the Clave might accept. The stolen memory lead was all that they had

Alec was betting it all on Magnus Bane.


	5. Chapter 5

**Seven Years Ago...**

"I don't even want to know how many rules we just broke," Lydia exclaimed through an adrenaline-fuelled laugh. "You're a bad influence, Alexander Lightwood."

Alec scoffed as he rested back on his hands, ignoring the sharp sting of the roof asphalt under his fingers. They were sat side-by-side on top of a closed cinema in Brooklyn, their gear a little torn and ichor-stained, but otherwise unharmed. "I never thought I'd _ever_ hear anyone say that."

Lydia smiled, then grimaced a little as the high began to wear off. "Seriously, though. Both of us leaving the Institute at the same time? There's a _reason_ we're supposed to lead in pairs. What if something goes wrong? Oh, Angel – we've only been in charge a month; what if the Clave decides to do a surprise inspection? What if there's an attack or-"

"Relax," Alec reassured, almost laughing to himself at the absurdity of _him_ encouraging rule-breaking. His mother would have had an aneurysm if she ever found out. "I've got my phone on me and you know Jace promised to call if anything comes up. I trust him. Nothing's gonna happen."

"I know, I know," Lydia took a deep breath, forcing her body to relax. "It's just the adrenaline, you know? Back in Idris, my sister and I, we were trained more for the politics. I mean, I _can_ fight, it's just that my field experience is a little... _sparse._ It was all mostly local patrols or guard duty. Nothing like..."

"A nest of Givali demons?" Alec finished. The tip had come in from a Downworlder contact that morning, warning them of a small nest causing minor chaos in the warehouse district. It wasn't anything major; it probably could have waited to be honest, but Alec knew that Lydia was going stir crazy. She hadn't left the Institute since the wedding a month earlier – true to her workaholic claim – and had never even seen the city beyond their front door. And so Alec had decided to take her out.

Demon hunting probably wasn't the ideal choice for a newly-wed's first date, but surely he got points for spontaneity.

"You handled yourself pretty well," Alec commented. "Fighting with a dagger is harder than a sword. Requires more brains and speed – though don't tell Jace I said that. You're very good."

Lydia flushed a little under the praise, her eyes sparkling in the dim moonlight. "Thanks, you're not so bad yourself," she retorted, making Alec roll his eyes. "Though I gotta ask, what's with the bow?"

Alec flinched, his hand automatically moving to grip the bow resting beside him defensively. Archers were not exactly common in Shadowhunter warfare. Of course, they were acknowledged as a tactical advantage when long range was called for, but _outside_ of that? Well, choosing to actually _specialise_ with a bow was tantamount to cowardice. The bravest warriors fought with blades, up close and in the thick of it; not hiding at the back with their sticks and strings.

Or at least, that is what Alec had always been told.

"It's a relic, right?" Lydia continued. Alec blinked at the unexpected question, not used to the curiosity instead of derision. "Has it got a name?"

"I don't know," Alec shrugged hesitantly. "Bows aren't like swords with the names and the recorded histories or whatever. All I know is that it was one of the spoils that the Institute had kept from a raid years ago. Hodge gave it to me when I picked archery, and I've been trying to figure out how to use it ever since."

Lydia frowned. "How do you mean?"

Alec thumbed the strap of his quiver, activating a rune that made it disappear despite the weight of it still lying comfortingly against his back. "They're not a matching set," he explained. "The quiver just has a normal glamour, but the bow... I can kind of... summon it? I guess? I mean, it has to be close by – it doesn't teleport across the city or anything like that – but I can call it to hand just by thinking about it. I can create arrows the same way too, but it hurts and tires me out – you can't create something from nothing after all. Hodge thinks that it's blood magic."

"Isn't that illegal?" Lydia asked.

"That's probably why it was seized in the first place," Alec said. "Besides, no one else can get it to work."

"Ah, _'the wand chooses the wizard, Harry_ '," Lydia said in a weird voice as if she were mimicking something. Alec stared at her blankly. "Harry Potter? The books? The movies?" Alec remained clueless and Lydia sighed "You never took Mundane Studies, I take it?"

Alec shook his head. "Mainly just Stabbing 101 and Long Dead Languages."

Lydia laughed musically. "Well, at Idris Academy we had this warlock teacher who taught Downworlder Education and incidentally, Mundane Studies – mainly because none of the Shadowhunter teachers know anything about them. It was pretty much just an excuse to watch movies and trash TV – he enchanted this television to work through the wards. It was awesome."

"I've never seen a movie," Alec muttered off-handedly.

Lydia gasped as if she had been slapped; eyes going comically wide and jaw dropping in surprise. "You live in a city, literally a stone's throw from a cinema, and you've _never_ seen a movie?" Alec shook his head. "Oh, that is gonna change. Every Friday night from now on, barring the apocalypse or a national crisis, we _will_ have dinner and a movie together, _capiche?"_

"Weren't you just having a mild panic attack about us both being out of the Institute at the same time?" Alec asked disbelievingly.

" _That_ was for an unsanctioned mission," Lydia replied. "This would be for date night."

"Date night?"

Lydia shrugged. "We're a couple now, technically, we can do couple things. I'll name Jace as our official second in command, like you were to your parents, and then we can go out whenever," she decided. "I'm working this into our agreement, by the way; right there next to pyjamas in bed. Oh, and we'll always split the bill; 50/50."

"We have the same expense account," Alec pointed out. Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine. Yes, I agree to date night."

It was only fair, after all. Lydia was only sixteen and had never even had a boyfriend before. She had never been on an actual date – her _first_ _kiss_ had been on their _wedding_ _day._ At the very least, Alec had had Daniel and experienced some of his firsts before all this. And okay, Daniel's idea of a date had been art galleries and museums rather than movie theatres; but if that was where Lydia's interests lay then Alec wanted to share that with her too. That was what friends did, after all.

And married couples too.

* * *

**Present**

Circle Members. Mundie blood. The Fairchild girl. It was all adding up to paint a picture that Magnus really didn't like the look of.

Valentine was back. And he would want the Mortal Cup.

Magnus had known that helping Jocelyn Fray had been the right thing to do, despite his misgivings. All those years ago when she had shown up on his doorstep with a toddler in her arms, he had known that what she was running from would eventually catch up with her – the past always did, no matter how many centuries you put between it and you.

She had told him the whole story, trusting the warlock regardless of racial divides. Before, he had agreed to help fight at the signing of the New Accords, in spite of what it had cost him, and Jocelyn respected that. She told him of how she had fought Valentine, stolen the Cup and hidden from him with their daughter in the mundane world. But the toddler had the Sight and all of its consequences. So, when Jocelyn had asked for his help to protect Clary, to hide the truth from the tiny Shadowhunter, Magnus had agreed – all prices wavered.

And now that tiny Shadowhunter was back with a new pack of Nephilim; dangling a precious ruby like he was an animal to be baited.

"Don't go," Elios insisted for what had to have been the fifth time. Around them, other local warlocks had gathered, seeking protection – most were old enough to remember Valentine's first Uprising, they knew exactly how this would play out. The Clave had always sought out warlocks for their powers and spells, making them a valuable weapon to be exploited. And every warlord knew that the best way to cripple an enemy was to destroy their greatest weapons. "Is the risk truly worth it for a _necklace?"_

Magnus scoffed. "You think me as vain as they do? This isn't about the jewellery. It's about the _girl."_

"What of her?"

"She's going to change _everything,"_ Magnus replied. "She's _Valentine's_ daughter, how could she not? She's new to this world, unaware of all the prejudices, but if she stays with the Nephilim she'll learn to believe as they do. This war will come and no one will care about the Downworlders."

Elios looked confused and more than a little apprehensive; his eyes crinkling with premature crows feet that Magnus wanted to reach over and fix. "You want to kidnap her?"

"What? No," Magnus shook his head. "I want to _talk_ to her, make her see that not all of what the Nephilim tell her is true. When the chips are down, they're far more likely to listen to a fellow Shadowhunter, after all."

"It's not worth it," Elios said adamantly. "You of all people know what's coming. Why send out the invitation of protection if you're just going to abandon us-"

"I am not _abandoning_ anybody," Magnus interrupted, hiding the hurt under a veneer of self-righteous anger. Elios met his eyes, his expression softening as if he could hear it anyway. "I am simply trying to think ahead so that when the solution of 'run and hide' inevitably becomes useless, we won't be _exterminated."_

Elios sighed, ducking his head a little as he shuffled closer, placing a hand lightly on Magnus' chest. "I just worry about you, that's all," he said warmly. "Valentine will come for you, for what you did. Especially when he learns about his daughter and what you did for Jocelyn. I just don't want to lose you."

Magnus stepped back, away from Elios' touch, and glanced down to avoid the look of confused hurt that flickered across the other man's features. Elios was younger than he, still open to new feelings – without the fear of the inevitable broken heart that would follow. But Magnus was old; and despite his best efforts to fill his immortal life with stimulation and excitement, he knew that he could no longer reciprocate another's affection.

He hadn't meant to lead Elios on.

"This discussion is over," Magnus said firmly, putting another step between them. Elios frowned, his eyes downcast as he stared at the growing distance between them. "I will meet with Clary Fairchild and the Wayland boy. While I'm gone have every warlock maintain the protective wards. I may be prepared to take on Valentine, but my guests are not."

Elios chewed his lip. "If that's the way that it has to be."

Magnus took a breath and lifted his chin confidently. "It is."

* * *

"Alec, can we talk?"

Alec nodded, passing the tablet computer he had just signed back to Raj with an apprehensive sigh, before leading the way to a quiet corner. "What is it, John?"

"Has Lydia spoken to you yet?" John Monteverde asked somewhat awkwardly. He was one of the few Shadowhunters in the Institute that was on par with Alec when it came to height, but John kept himself slightly hunched as he leaned back against the wall and cast a furtive glance at anything other than Alec.

"We spoke before she left for Idris," Alec confirmed. He sighed heavily, and then double-checked that they weren't going to be overheard. "I know that she's pregnant, if that's what you're asking. And that it's definitely not mine."

John finally met Alec's eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We never meant to- I know that this wasn't a part of the arrangement and that it messes everything up and when the Clave find outs out- _Angel_ help us- but I love her. I love her _so_ much, and you _can't_ -"

"I was never going to stop her from finding love," Alec cut off the panicked rambling. He had already had his freak out when Lydia had told him a few days before. He had known about their relationship; of course he did. Lydia respected him enough not to lie to him; and, if something went wrong (like an unexpected, illegitimate pregnancy) it would affect _all_ of them. But John and Lydia had been seeing each other for over three years now, and they had all been careful. Somehow, Alec had started to believe that it would all work out.

How wrong he had been.

Cheating, infidelity, it happened in the Shadowhunter world. More often than the Clave would ever admit. They raved about their Angel blood, but ultimately, they were human, with all the urges and poor decision making that came with that. This wouldn't be the first baby conceived out of wedlock as the result of adultery. The fallout, however, could bring them all down.

Abortion was a punishable offence, and giving the baby up would bring shame (and its consequences) upon both mother and child – the only accepted conclusion to something like this was for the husband to claim the child as his own and cut the actual father out.

The Clave wouldn't need to know if they handled it privately. If John took a transfer to another Institute and swore to never see Lydia or his child again, then no one would ever have to know. Things could continue as they were; they would keep the Institute, stay happily married in the eyes of the Clave, and wouldn't have to worry about their next rapidly approaching deadline.

But Lydia would be miserable.

She was too similar to Alec in that respect, and he knew exactly how she would blame herself for daring to love someone. His guilt over what had happened to Daniel still lay heavily on his shoulders even seven years later, and that was without involving a child that would be a daily reminder of the man that she had loved and lost.

It would break her.

Alec shook his head and sighed again. He had been trying to think of solutions for days – just one more thing to juggle as Valentine came barrelling back into their lives. The only option he could come up with was divorce and that... well, that came with its own set of consequences.

The price was too high to pay.

John slouched back further against the wall. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Alec responded truthfully, before forcing a smile and clapping a hand on John's shoulder in reassurance. "But I'll handle it. Now, I gotta go overpay a warlock for some memories. Hold down the fort while I'm gone, alright?"

John nodded. Lydia had named him her second years back so that Alec could still accompany Jace on missions even when she was away in Idris. As long as one of the four of them stayed at the Institute, they weren't breaking any of the Clave's precious rules. Considering everything that was going on, John knew better than anyone how important it was not to bring any scrutiny down on them right now. "Good luck."

Alec had a feeling he was going to need it.

* * *

"Magnus!" a voice yelled over the bass of the club's music, distracting Magnus from the smudge of eyeliner that he was fixing. He looked up to see a blonde boy dressed up all in leather that he guessed had to be the Wayland kid, followed closely but none other than Clary Fairchild. Climbing to his feet, Magnus met them halfway, a flick of his hand creating a quiet pocket around them so that they could hear each other without more yelling – and no one could listen in either.

"Clary Fairchild," Magnus greeted. "And grown into a beautiful young woman."

Clary blinked at the volume change, eyeing the party still going on around them before focusing back on him. "Magnus Bane," she retorted with a derision that Magnus had hoped that she hadn't learned yet. "So you're the one that stole my memories."

"At your mother's request," Magnus pointed out. Clary flinched a little at the mention of her mother, her eyes dropping to the floor to try and hide the pain in them. Magnus softened slightly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on her arm in comfort. "I was sorry to hear what happened. She was a wonderfully brave woman."

"Thank you," Clary nodded.

Jace was eyeing their contact with barely veiled distrust, so Magnus pulled away and stepped back. "You have the jewellery, Shadowhunter?"

"Give Clary back her memories," Jace demanded, letting the necklace dangle from his fingers as he purposely held it back. "And you get the jewellery."

Magnus scowled. "I have to check it's authenticity."

Reluctantly, Jace handed the necklace over, watching carefully as Magnus studied the jewel. On its reverse, the engraved word _Amore_ caught the club's strobe lights, bringing back memories of Victorian streets and proper gentlemen and one beautiful but incredibly cruel vampire. _True love can never die_. And a broken heart can never heal.

"Now it's your turn to pay up," Clary pushed.

Magnus pocketed the necklace. It was true what he had said to Elios – the jewellery wasn't his reason for attending the meeting, but that didn't mean that he particularly liked knowing that it was in Shadowhunter hands. "I wish that I could return your memories," he replied, a touch guiltily. "But I no longer have them."

"What?" Clary asked. "Where are they?"

"I fed them to a memory demon for safe keeping," Magnus answered, ignoring the frustrated look Jace was throwing at him. "To protect Clary and the Cup. If Valentine ever captured me he could torture Clary's memories right out of me. He would use me, just like last time."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Last time?"

"It doesn't matter," Magnus dismissed. "Listen to me Clary. It's only a matter of time before Valentine finds out about you. You are the only person left who could possibly know where the Cup is; he _will_ come for you. I can offer you protection no Shadowhunter can. Come with me, Clary."

"No," Clary denied. "No, I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Don't be a fool," Magnus warned. "Your mother would want you to live."

"Then help me get my memories back from whatever demon you gave them to! It's the only way we'll find the Cup!" Clary demanded, stepping threateningly into Magnus' space. "I have to keep it from Valentine, _that's_ what my mother would have wanted."

Magnus shook his head, growing frustrated. "No, Clary, it's not. Whatever they've told you- She didn't want this life for you at all. Please, please just come with me, and I will tell you everything-"

"That's enough-"

Magnus didn't hear whatever else it was that the Wayland boy was yelling, his focus snapped to the other side of the city and the wards that he had put up around his loft. Sharp pain whited his vision as his magic was tugged on like taut guitar strings, each layer of protection snapping as it was strummed with a blade instead of a pick.

 _No_.

The magic bubble popped, the sound of the club once more clamouring around them. Magnus didn't even register the change as he turned to create a portal between two pillars.

"Where are you going?!" Clary shouted to be heard. She reached out and grabbed Magnus' sleeve, but he yanked his arm free and stepped through the portal.

Elios was right.

He _never_ should have left.

* * *

"What happened?" Alec demanded as he strode up to Jace and Clary. He had just finished checking the perimeter when he had seen the bright flash of a portal being formed, drawing him towards the seemingly failed meeting.

Clary stared dumbfounded at where the portal had blinked out of existence, her arm still outstretched and her hand fisted as if she had made to grab something. Jace placed a hand on her arm and flickered his gaze up to Alec. "No go. The warlock no longer has her memories and he ran with the necklace."

Alec clucked his tongue in annoyance. "'No longer has'? What does that mean?"

"Memory demon."

"Dammit," Alec cursed. "We'll have to make another deal, convince him to summon the demon he gave the memories to-"

" _How?"_ Clary cut him off, her voice loud enough and shrill enough to draw the eye of a couple of dancing club-goers. Tears glistened in her eyes as she turned her frustration on Alec, going so far as to thump him on the arm with her closed fist. It wasn't hard enough to really hurt, but Alec still instinctively grabbed her flailing wrist to stop her from doing it again. "Just _how_ are we supposed to do that!? Huh? He's _gone!_ I'm never gonna get my memories back..."

Alec's eyebrows rose in concern at Clary's sudden hysteria. She had been pretty calm up until then, which given what she had been through those past few days was actually amazing. But Alec knew that it was the smallest thing that could tip you from bottling it up to spilling over. Jace had stepped closer to her to grip her shoulders in comfort, while Alec was still awkwardly holding her wrist. And then he smirked. "You give up way too easily."

Jace and Clary blinked at the button that Alec took from Clary's palm, the thread still sticking up from where it had been ripped from the warlock's sleeve. "We can track him," Jace grinned.

Clary looked between the two of them, slowly catching on to what they meant. "Y-you can find him?"

" _Parabatai_ tracking," Jace explained. He gave her shoulders another squeeze before letting go, and Clary flushed bright red in embarrassment as she scrubbed away the tears on her cheeks that Jace and Alec pretended not to see. "Where's Izzy?"

"She's babysitting the mundie," Alec rolled his eyes, earning a glare from Clary. He didn't even know _why_ they had to bring the mundane in the first place, it would only put him in unnecessary danger. But when he had pointed that fact out before they had left the Institute, he had been outnumbered, four to one. "They were over by the bar when I came in."

"His _name_ is Simon," Clary hissed.

Alec turned to Jace. "We've got to go after the warlock before he goes too deep underground. Let's grab Izzy and Sherman and go."

Jace smirked, but quickly hid it as Clary turned her glare onto him.

"Alec!" Izzy shouted over the music, pushing through a crowd of semi-naked dancers as she hurried over. "I'm so sorry! I lost him!"

"What?"

"Simon, I lost him!" Izzy explained, sounding panicked. "We were by the bar, keeping an eye out, so I ordered a few drinks to, you know, blend in, and then he said he was going to the bathroom but he didn't come back. And yes, I checked the gents – scared the crap out of a couple of jocks – but he wasn't there. He's gone!"

"Oh god, Simon," Clary gasped, instantly starting to search the crowded club around them. The more that she was learning about the Shadow World, the easier it was to see through the glamours; the fangs and claws and faerie wings suddenly revealing the sheer volume of Downworlders around them. "I have to find him! He wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me! But Magnus-"

"Jace and I will find the warlock," Alec cut in, and then turned to face Izzy. "You and Clary find the mundie. I'll text you when we find Bane and we'll meet there later, alright?"

Izzy nodded and grabbed Clary's hand, the two of them vanishing into the throng of bodies. Alec glanced at Jace, who was watching after Clary with undisguised worry. "Don't worry, Romeo," Alec clapped him on the shoulder as he led them outside. "Your girlfriend will be fine."

Jace shrugged, trying to play it off, but still couldn't help glancing over his shoulder as they snuck out the fire exit and into the night. "Let's just find the Warlock."

* * *

It shouldn't have been possible.

The portal formed in the centre of the loft, the discharge of purple magic licking at the archway that had been commandeered as it's opening and scattering debris across the wood floors. Magnus stepped through, hands already raised to cast a defensive spell just in time to catch the _seraph_ blade coming at his throat. The _adamas_ deflected against a blue glow and became heavy in it's wielder's hands; buying Magnus the moment he needed to summon a concussive spell that flung the circle member across the room.

The loft was in shambles. Scorch marks from wayward spells marred walls and broken furniture. Several shattered windows and destroyed china pieces left a minefield of shards across the floor. And the bodies.

Oh lord, the bodies.

Magnus didn't have the chance to count them as another circle member made a run at him, catching the full force of Magnus' ire in a spell so uncontrolled it took out half the kitchen as well as the Shadowhunter; his charred corpse joining the others on the floor.

It was clear that the warlocks had put up a fight; buying time for the younger and less powerful to make an escape. Not every body that lay on the floor was that of a warlock. But there were still too many of his friends gone.

And some had had their warlock Marks removed.

The next circle member that attempted to bring Magnus down vanished in a strike of purple light, a half-formed portal connecting the loft to the railing of the Empire State building – the Shadowhunter's own momentum throwing him over the edge and into the long drop below. It was unnecessary, Magnus knew. A waste of his not infinite energy when simple concussive spells would take the Shadowhunters down just as well. But he was _mad._ So damn _angry_ \- at the Circle. At Valentine.

At _himself_.

_I never should have left._

If he had just been there, where he was supposed to be... Maybe he could have stopped this. Maybe he wouldn't be stepping over so many corpses. It was his fault. He did this. _Dammit all_ he should have listened to Elios.

_Elios._

* * *

"Something's wrong," Alec murmured as they approached the old building that the tracking rune had left them too. Beside him, Jace tensed, _seraph_ blade activating in response. "We shouldn't have been able to get this close."

Jace nodded. "He looked freaked when he left. Valentine must have found him."

Alec called his bow to hand and nocked an arrow from his now visible quiver, the two of them moving in tandem as they cautiously approached. The glamour that made the building appear vacant and decrepit had faded, then all out vanished the closer that they got. What was left was an industrial-looking unit, like an old factory or something. A fire escape led up the side of the building, a light glowing through a broken window on the second floor the only apparent sign of life.

Jace gestured at an open doorway to their left. It was wide, clearly meant as a delivery entrance, but the metal shutters protecting it had been forced open. "Split up?" he offered quietly, pointing at himself and then the fire escape. "Meet in the middle?"

"Fine," Alec agreed. "But be careful."

Jace shot him a grin that was as self-assured as always, but did absolutely nothing to reassure Alec. He waited a moment, watching Jace scale the ladders with the grace afforded to them by their runes, and then crept through the open doorway with his bow drawn.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly; taking in the abandoned machinery that littered the open space like a memorial to the closed-down business. Alec scanned around him cautiously for any signs of movement, his heightened senses rune glowing as he listened for the slightest scuff of footprints or huff of breath.

And then an explosion nearly deafened him.

It felt as if a clap of thunder had just rattled his bones, leaving his ears ringing as he tried to clear the dulling fog from his head. With his hearing temporarily gone, he had to rely on his sight, eyes flickering from shadow to shadow anxiously; painfully aware that he was open and vulnerable and-

A muffled cry had him spinning, bow raised and aimed at the source before he realised that it was just a little girl. A little girl with horns and webbed fingers, but still just a child. It took Alec a beat too long to follow her line of sight; a second anguished cry reaching through the buzzing in his ears as he spotted two men up on the catwalk. The man at the front was horned like the girl, mouth open as if to warn her away. But he didn't get the chance to say a thing as a _seraph_ blade pierced his chest.

Alec released his arrow, catching the Circle Member squarely in the heart as the warlock fell to the concrete below. But it was too little, too late.

_"Dammit."_

"Daddy!" the girl screamed as she ran towards the body, uncaring of the blood that she slipped in as she dropped to her knees beside her father. "Daddy! Wake up! Please!"

Alec swallowed the lump in his throat at the scene, another layer of guilt settling on already heavy shoulders. Taking a calming breath, he approached the warlock girl carefully, being sure to make a little noise so that he didn't surprise her. She looked up at him fearfully as he dropped to a crouch maybe a metre or so away from her. "Hey, sweetheart, I'm sorry," he said quietly. He put his bow on the floor and raised both hands where she could see them. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"My Daddy," she hiccuped through her tears. Her eyes caught on the prominent rune on his neck. "You hurt my Daddy."

Alec shook his head. "No, I didn't. I tried to help," he pointed up at the Circle Member collapsed on the catwalk above them. "That bad Shadowhunter, he hurt your dad. I'm sorry I was too late."

"How touching," a new voice announced, dripping with sarcasm. Alec made to grab his bow, but the new Circle Member was faster, materialising from the shadows and grabbing the girl before Alec could blink. The warlock girl yelped and tried to kick free of her captor's grip, but the burning of the _seraph_ dagger levelled at her neck quickly stilled her. "Care to join daddy-dearest?"

"Let her go," Alec demanded. The Circle Member scoffed and gestured with the knife threateningly, promising to slit the girl's throat if Alec so much as moved. Alec smirked. "I'll be quicker."

"I seriously doubt-"

Alec had his bow in hand and string drawn before the Circle Member had even opened his mouth. But he didn't have time to grab an arrow from his quiver. Instead he pictured it already knocked against his bow; a slight tug of pain in his stomach and a glimmer of light at his fingers telling him that the magic had responded, just as he released the string. The summoned arrow flew true, impaling the Circle Member through the eye with a sickening _pop._

The girl dropped to the floor, landing lightly on her toes as the Circle Member slumped lifelessly to the concrete.

Alec immediately lowered the bow, ignoring the slight dizziness that came from creating arrows out of thin air, and offered his hand to the girl. "Let's go find the others."

* * *

Magnus recognised the horns that the Shadowhunter held so tauntingly in his hands.

_Elios._

They were black and ridged and just how Magnus knew them, yet so alien when not sitting in their proper place. Dark curly hair was still caught around them. Bloodied flesh gripping to the root.

"Your cat's eyes will look wonderful next to these in my collection," the Shadowhunter smirked, rolling the amputated horns in his palm before pocketing them to better hold his angel sword. Magnus didn't know when the glamour had dropped from his eyes, but he couldn't say that he honestly cared.

He just wanted to tear the Shadowhunter apart.

A wave of magic erupted from his hand – not even slightly tempered by a spell – just pure power thrown across the room, searing anything in it's path. It hurt to do so, pulled at the last of his reserves, but it hurt more to realise that the Shadowhunter had dodged. He hit the floor and rolled, coming up closer and with his _seraph_ blade slicing the air mere inches from Magnus' face.

Magnus flinched back, another wave of uncontrolled magic flying from his hand just as something burned painfully across his stomach. The magic hit the Shadowhunter full in the face – the man too close to avoid it this time – melting the skin as he screamed in pain.

They both hit the floor at the same time; the Shadowhunter dead and Magnus drained as he dropped to his knees. He gazed down at the defaced Shadowhunter through blurry eyes, hoping to feel some kind of satisfaction for avenging Elios, but he felt nothing. No remorse. No victory. Just guilt and pain. He had never been honest with Elios about his lack of ability to feel love, to feel _anything_ for him. And now he was gone.

And it was all Magnus' fault.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye had Magnus attacking again on instinct, a blast of magic incinerating the wall where the invader had been. He dragged his eyes up to a tall, dark-haired Shadowhunter that he vaguely recognised; Chloe, one of his friend's daughter, held in his arms.

Magnus didn't register that the Shadowhunter had turned from the blind attack, purposely shielding Chloe with his own body as burnt debris pelted his gear. All he saw was another Shadowhunter threatening a child of his kind.

"Let her go!" he demanded harshly, hand raised to attack again though he doubted that he had the strength left to do so.

The tall Shadowhunter nodded, slowly lowering Chloe to the ground and then gently pushing her behind him so that he stood between her and potentially another of Magnus' spells. Magnus blinked at the action, his exhausted mind struggling to register its meaning. He caught Chloe's frightened eyes watching him apprehensively and forced a tired smile. "Go find your mother, my dear. She should be in the den."

Chloe looked up to the Shadowhunter, who smiled and gently nudged her towards the doorway; both men watching her until she vanished.

And then Magnus slumped, the world blurring around him as the consequences of draining his magic caught up with him. But instead of hitting the carpet, he found himself leaning almost upright against something solid and warm. He forced his eyes open, gaze settling on the black lines of a deflect rune before survival instinct kicked in. "Don't touch me!"

The Shadowhunter immediately put his hands where Magnus could see them, but didn't move from where he was knelt beside him. Magnus tried to push himself upright, away from the body that he was slouched against, but he simply didn't have the strength. He hissed in pain and frustration, almost falling flat on his face in his efforts to escape, before the Shadowhunter caught him and propped Magnus back against him. "Careful, you're hurt."

"Huh?" Magnus slurred intelligently, before realising that actually, the Shadowhunter was right. His stomach was still burning something fierce, and when he looked down he could see the long rip in his shirt. And the deep gash in the flesh beneath. Carefully, the Shadowhunter reached down and pulled the fabric back, the light satin now heavy with blood, wincing at the sight of the half-cauterised, half-bleeding wound. Magnus cursed creatively.

"Can't you just, uh, heal yourself?" the Shadowhunter asked. Mildly delirious from blood loss, lack of energy and being emotionally drained, Magnus couldn't figure out _why_ the Shadowhunter sounded so damned _concerned._ It was messing with his head – part of him wanting to sink into the comfort offered by the embrace they found themselves in, and part of him needing to escape from the trap that this obviously had to be.

But to be fair, he didn't really have a choice. "N-no st-strength."

He couldn't run even if he decided to. His body was heavy with pain and exhaustion and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. The Shadowhunter could do whatever he wanted to him and Magnus wouldn't be able to raise a finger to defend himself. But just as Magnus resigned himself to his fate, the Shadowhunter gently took his hand and squeezed it.

"Can you take mine?" he asked.

And _what?!_

What was happening? The Shadowhunters had come to kill them. They had stolen their warlock Marks as trophies. They had _killed Elios._ Magnus didn't understand, but his mind was so messed up right then that he didn't even have the inclination to try. He simply let his body do what it needed to survive, leaving the hard task of figuring things out for when his brain was less oxygen deprived.

The Shadowhunter gasped at the initial pull, but didn't let go. His eyes fell shut as he grimaced through the pain, and Magnus idly realised that he was actually rather pretty and-

 _Bad Magnus._ Shadowhunters are _not_ pretty.

After a moment the wound in his stomach began to close, torn flesh knitting together seamlessly until all that was left was a light pink scar. The Shadowhunter took a deep breath to clear the dizziness from sharing strength, and then smiled awkwardly down at Magnus, who was still warily wondering how much trouble he was in.

Clearing his throat, Magnus untangled himself from the Shadowhunter's arms and stood; snapping his fingers to replace his torn shirt with a decidedly less bloody one. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, caught in a stalemate as they assessed what would happen next.

Magnus smiled, burying the hurt and uncertainty under a mask of cocky self-assurance. "I guess I should know the name of my saviour."

The Shadowhunter blinked, climbing to his feet as well. He gave Magnus a lopsided grin that made the warlock's stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the now healed wound. "A-A-Alec."

Oh boy, Magnus was _definitely_ in trouble.


End file.
